bmander  Walk 


XDUIS  N.  PARKER 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  St,  New  York 


POMANDER  WALK 

A  Comedy  in  Three  Act* 


BY 

LOUIS  N.  PARKER 


COPYRIGHT,  1915,  BT  LOUIS  N.  PARKEP 


All  Rights  Reserved 

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NEW  YORK 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 
25  WEST  4STH    STREET 


Los  ANGELES,  CALIF. 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

FINE  ARTS  BLDG. 
811  WEST  7TH  STREET 


WALK 

All  Rights  Reserved 


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If  the  unlawful  performance  and  representation  be  wilful 
and  for  profit,  such  person  or  persons  shall  be  guilty  of  a 
misdemeanor,  and  upon  conviction  shall  be  imprisoned  for 
a  period  not  exceeding  one  year."-rU.  S.  Revised  Statutes: 
Title  60,  Chap.  3. 


TO 

DOROTHY 


M90779 


POMANDER  WALK. 


First   performed  at   Montreal,   Dec.    12,   1910, 

Then  at  Wallack's  Theatre,  New  York,  Dec.  20, 
1910. 

PERSONS. 

JOHN  SAYLE,  IOTH  BARON  OXFORD.  Yorke  Stephens 
LIEUT.  THE  HON.  JOHN  SAYLE,  R.  N.  Edgar  Kent 
ADMIRAL  SIR  PETER  ANTROBUS.  .  ..George  Giddens 

JEROME  BROOKE-HOSKYN,  ESQ Lennox  Pawle 

THE  REV.  JACOB  STERNROYD,  D.  D.,  F.  S.  A 

T.  Wigney  Percyval 

MR.  BASIL  PRINGLE Reginald  Dance 

JIM Stanley  Lathbury 

THE  MUFFIN-MAN S.  N.  Price 

THE  LAMPLIGHTER Charles  Clugston 

THE  EYESORE Leslie  M.  Hunt 

MADAME  LUCIE  LACHESNAIS Sybil  Carlisle 

MLLE.  MARJOLAINE  LACHESNAIS.  .Dorothy  Parker 

MRS.  PAMELA  POSKETT Cicely  Richards 

Miss  RUTH  PENNYMINT Helen  Ley  ton 

Miss  BARBARA  PENNYMINT Winifred  Fraser 

THE  HON.  CAROLINE  THRING Marie  Burke 

NANETTE Harriet  Davis 

JANE Margaret  Phillips 

ACT      I.  Saturday  afternoon,  25th  May,  1805. 
ACT    II.  Saturday  morning',  1st  June,  1805. 
ACT  III.  Monday  evening,  3rd  June,  1805. 

For  costumes  and  the  general  atmosphere  of  the 
play  consult  the  illustrated  novel  published  under 
the  same  title  by  the  John  Lane  Co.,  New  York, 
and  by  John  Lane,  The  Bodley  Road,  Vigo  Street. 
London,  W. 


POMANDER  WALK 


PROPERTIES  FOR  ACT  I. 

Quoits  down  stage  between  Gazebo  and  tree. 
Brass  cannon  R.  of  walk — near  river  wall. 
Birdcage  hanging  outside  top  window  of  No.  & 
Extra  pipe  in  corner  of  gateway  of  No.  2. 

KITCHEN  TABLE  AT  BACK  OF  No.  i,  AND  ON  IT 
Muffins  on  tray 
Brass  candlestick  and  candle 
Kettle  (Act  3) 

ANOTHER  KITCHEN  TABLE  BACK  OF  STAGE,  AND  ON  if 
Book 

Parcels  (Act  3) 
Basket  and  vegetables 
Tea-things  and  tray  (Act  3) 
Baby  for  nurse 

No.  i  HOUSE. 

I  chair  upstairs 

1  chair  down 

(Downstairs)  tray  with  2  clay  pipes  filled 
Tobacco  jar 

2  pewters 

2  extra  pewters  on  floor 
Plate  and  eoin 

No.  2  HOUSE. 

1  chair  upstairs 

2  down 


8  POMANDER  WALK. 

(Downstairs)  plate  and  coin  on  it 
Cat    (Stuffed) 

No.  3  HOUSE. 

I  chair  upstairs 

I  chair  and  table  down 

(Downstairs)  student's  lamp 

Plate  and  coin 

Books 

Punch-bowl  and  ladle  (Act  3) 

Coloured  wineglass 

Milkjug  *    " 

T  M       M 

Lemon 

No.  4  HOUSE. 

1  chair  upstairs 

2  chairs  down 
Violin  upstairs 

(Downstairs)  2  plates  and  coins 
Glass  of  water 

5  bunches  of  roses  placed  lightly  on,  rose  bush 
in  garden,  so  that  they  can  be  gathered,  and 

3  loose  bunches  of  white  flowers  outside  top 
window  (Act  3) 

No.  5  HOUSE. 

I  chair  upstairs 

Special  chair  and  table  down 

(Downstairs)  tray  with  claret  and  3  slices  of 

cake  (not  stale)  plate  and  coin 


POMANDER  WALK. 

LIGHTING  FOR  ACT  L 
(As  much  light  as  possible.) 

All  whites,  borders  and  foots  full 
R.  4  amber  spots  (2  on  bridge) 
R.  2  white  olivettes. 
L.  2  amber  spots. 
Back  I  white  olivette. 

(No  change  of  light  during  art.} 


-— o 


D 


I 


POMANDER  WALK. 


(Music  starts.    After  20  bars  cease,  and  MARJO 
LAINE  enters  in  front  of  drop  as) 

PROLOGUE 

'{Curtsey} 

Kind  friends,  to-night  we  lead  you  far  away 

From  all  the  turmoil  of  the  busy  day, 

Into  a  quiet  nook  where  thrushes  sing: 

Into  the  days  when  George  the  Third  was  King. 

Five  little  houses,  by  the  waterside ;  '(Indicates  L.) 

Five  little  gardens,  only  eight  feet  wide ;  (Indicates 

LJ 

Two  little  oil-lamps,  giving  little  light, 

And  only  kindled  on  a  moonless  nighi 

Here  the  cool  shadow  of  a  sheltering  tree,  (Indicates 

c.) 

And  here  the  river,  singing  to  the  sea,  (Indicates  R.) 

Upon  whose  bosom,  drifting  to  and  fro, 

The  lazy  barges  slowly  come  and  go. 

Here  the  gazebo  stands  (R.)  What's  that  ?  you  ask— 

A  kind  of  summer  house,  arranged  to  mask  ^ 

Strange  goings-on,  strange  plottings  and  contrivings, 

Quarrels,  conciliations,  wooings,  wivings. 

It  is  the  summer,  and  the  month  is  June, 
When  roses  blossom,  birds  are  ull  «  tune ; 
Morning    and    midday,    sunset— and    a    moon! 
(Finger  up) 

II 


12  POMANDER  WALK. 

In  these  curroiin  dings  placid  and  genteel, 

Place  ordinary  -$olk  ^rk6  think  and  feel, 

Let  them  live  out  their  lives,  and  do  and  say 

Just  what  they  like:  and  there  you  have  our  play. 

(Bows) 

Where  is  Pomander  Walk?    Why,  close  at  hand — 

Out      Chiswick      way — halfway      to      Fairyland. 

(Curtsey) 

(Exit  MARJOLAINE.    Music  resumes,  and  after  10 
bars  curtain  rises.) 


POMANDER  WALK. 


ACT  I. 
(Saturday  afternoon,  May  25th,  1805.) 

SCENE: — Pomander  Walk  is  a  retired  crescent  of 
five  very  small,  old-fashioned  houses  near  Chis- 
wick,  on  the  river-bank.  On  the  left  of  the 
actor  are  the  houses.  They  are  exactly  alike: 
miniature  copies  of  Queen  Anne  mansions. 
Each  has  a  little  strip  of  garden  in  front  of  it, 
separated  from  the  road  by  an  ornamental  rail- 
ing with  a  still  more  ornamental  gate.  Each 
has  its  link  extinguisher.  Three  steps  lead  up 
to  each  little  door  and  each  door  has  a  beauti- 
ful brass  knocker.  Each  little  house  has  a  little 
projecting  bow  window  with  square  panes,  on 
the  ground  floor,  and  two  windows  above.  A 
brick  pavement  runs  in  front  of  the  garden  rail- 
ings; then  there  is  a  gravelled  space;  then  a 
lawn,  which  extends  to  the  river's  edge,  where 
it  is  bounded  by  a  chain  hanging  from  white 
posts.  In  the  centre  of  the  lawn  is  a  splendid 
elm,  with  a  seat  round  its  trunk.  At  the  back, 
Pomander  Lane  turns  off  to  the  left,  along 
Pomander  Creek,  in  which  a  barge  is  lying  with 
its  brown  sail  hoisted  to  dry.  On  the  right,  a? 
the  back,  are  Pomander  Steps,  leading  to  the 
river.  Just  below  the  steps  is  a  low  shrub.  On 
the  right,  in  front,  is  a  summer-house.  The 
houses  are  numbered  from  the  upper  end,  and 


I4  POMANDER  WALK. 

opposite  numbers  one  and  five  are  public  oil- 
lamps  on  wooden  posts.  In  the  garden  of 
Number  One  is  a  miniature  mast,  properly 
rigged,  with  the  Union  Jack  floating  from  it. 
A  wicker  cage,  with  a  thrush  in  it  hangs  outside 
the  upper  window.  The  woodwork  of  all  the 
houses  except  Number  Five,  is  painted  green; 
that  of  Number  Five  is  white,  and  it  is  also 
distinguished  by  a  lovely  display  of  flowers  on 
all  the  window-sills. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  SIR  PETER  ANTRO 
BUS,  a  genial  but  plethoric  old  ADMIRAL  with  a 
patch  over  one  eye,  and  MR.  BROOKE-HOSKYN, 
a  ponderous,  slow-moving  person,  with  a  rumbl- 
ing bass  voice,  both  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  have 
just  finished  a  game  of  quoits.  BASIL  PRINGLE, 
slightly  hunch-backed,  pale-faced,  with  soulful 
eyes,  is  seated  at  an  open  window  of  Number 
Four,  (upstairs),  practising  a  passage  in  the 
slow  movement  of  the  KREUTZER  SONATA  on 
the  violin,  and  repeating  it  over  and  over  again, 
shaking  his  head  with  evident  dissatisfaction. 
Miss  RUTH  PENNYMINT,  thin  and  forty,  is 
seated  at  the  open  downstair  window  of  the 
same  house.  THE  EYESORE,  a  nondescript 
creature,  clad  in  a  long  garment  with  bulging 
pockets,  somewhat  resembling  a  smock  frockt 
and  in  a  terrible  old  rough-haired  top  hat,  is 
fishing  from  the  upper  end  of  the  Walk. 
Presently  MRS.  POSKETT,  forty  and  buxom, 
comes  out  of  Number  Two,  carrying  a  large  and 
lovely  sandy-haired  cat  in  her  arms,  which  she 
puts  down  in  her  front  garden,  out  of  sight. 
Then  she  bvsies  herself  in  her  little  garden. 

SIR  PETER.  (Up  R.  c.  to  BROOK-HOSKYN  down 
R.  Whose  quoit  has  fallen  over  the  pin)  A  ringer! 
— (He  looks  at  all  the  quoits)  One  maiden  to  you, 


POMANDER  WALK.  15 

Brooke!  Game  all! — Peeled,  by  Jehoshaphat! 
(He  whistles  with  Bos'n's  whistle  towards  No.  i. 
JIM,  an  old  sailor  with  a  stiff  leg,  appears  at  the  up- 
stairs window) 

JIM.    Ay,  ay,  Admiral ! 

SIR  PETER.  The  usual — here,  under  the  elm. 
And  look  lively. 

JIM.    Ay,  ay,  sir !    (He  disappears) 

SIR  PETER.  (To  BROOKE-HOSKYN,  alluding  to 
the  game)  We  must  play  it  off. 

BROOKE.  Another  time,  Sir  Peter.  It  is  very 
warm ;  and  my  eye  is  out. 

SIR  PETER.  (Laughing)  So's  mine,  but  I  see 
straight,  what? 

BROOKE.  (Alluding  to  MRS.  POSKETT  and  RUTH) 
Should  we  not  resume  our  habiliments?  The  fair 
are  observing  us. 

SIR  PETER.  (Shocked)  Gobblessmysoul !  (He 
and  BROOKE-HOSKYN  hastily  help  each  other  on 
with  their  coats,  which  were  lying  on  the  bench 
under  the  elm.  JIM  brings  a  tray  with  two  pewters ', 
two  long  clay  pipes,  a  jar  of  tobacco,  and  a  lighted 
candle  in  a  brass  candlestick.  He  puts  tray  centre 
of  seat  under  tree,  helps  SIR  PETER  on  with  his 
coat  and  picks  up  quoits  and  pin,  which  he  carries 
into  No,  i.  Alluding  to  BASIL)  Wish  he'd  stop  his 
infernal  scraping! 

BROOKE.  (Condescendingly)  Poor  fellow! 
What  a  way  of  earning  his  living ! 

SIR  PETER.  (Calling  to  BASIL)  Mr.  Pringle! 
Mr.  Pringle!  Ahoy! 

(Stop  violin  off.) 

BASIL.  (Stops  on  a  dreadful  wrong  note)  I  beg 
your  pardon,  Admiral!  I  was  engrossed! 

SIR  PETER. ^   Join  us  under  the  elm — what? 

BASIL.  With  pleasure.  I'll  just  put  away  my 
Strad.  (Disappears) 


16  POMANDER  WALK. 

SIR  PETER.  (Pewter  in  hand,  just  about  to  drink) 
His  what  ? 

BROOKE.  (With  great  superiority)  His  Stradi- 
varius: — his  violin. 

SIR  PETER.  Oh !  His  fiddle !  Why  couldn't  he 
say  so?  (Calls)  Jim! 

JIM.     (Just  going  into  No.  i)    Ay,  ay,  sir! 

SIR  PETER.  (Pointing  to  the  pewters)  Another. 
(JiM  exit.  Raising  the  pewter)  Well! — the  King! 
(Standing) 

BROOKE.  (Solemnly)  His  most  gracious 
Majesty  King  George — God  bless  him !  (Standing) 

(Both  drink.) 

SIR  PETER.  Why,  you  do  that  as  well  as  if  you 
was  a  toastmaster. 

BROOKE.     (Flustered)     Nothing  of  the  sort,  sir. 

SIR  PETER.  (  With  a  sigh  of  satisfaction)  Ah ! — 
Now!  a  pipe  of  tobacco  with  you,  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  ? 

BROOKE.    Delighted. 

SIR  PETER.  (Pointing  to  jar)  St.  Vincent. 
Prime  stuff !  and — in  your  ear ! — (Sits) — smuggled ! 

BROOKE.    No ! — reely  ? 

(They  light  their  pipes  simultaneously  at  the  candle, 
talking  meanwhile.    Both  seated.) 

SIR  PETER.  Was  you  at  a  banquet  again  last 
night,  Brooke  ? 

BROOKE.  (Indifferently)  Yes — yes.  The  Guild- 
hall. All  the  haut  ton! 

SIR  PETER.  Lucky — (Lighting  his  pipe)  Lucky 
dog !— Turtle,  eh  ? 

BROOKE.  (Wearily)  As  usual.  Believe  me, 
personally  I  should  prefer  seclusion  and — medita- 
tion; but  my  friends  are  good  enough  to  insist. 
Only  last  night,  Fox  (With  immense  importance, 


POMANDER  WALK.  17 

and  with  his  eye  on  SIR  PETER)  my  good  friend, 
the  Right  Honourable  Charles  James  Fox — said, 
"  Brooke,  my  boy  " — just  like  that — "  Brooke,  my 
boy,  what  would  our  banquets  be  without  you  ?  " 

SIR  PETER.  (Impressed)  Gobblessmysoul ! — 
What's  your  average? 

BROOKE.  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  usually  have  to 
wrench  myself  away  four  nights  a  week. 

(Enter  JANE  with  baby  from  No.  3.) 

SIR  PETER.  Think  o'  that,  now! — By  the  way, 
how's  your  wife  ? 

BROOKE.  Cheerful,  sir.  Selina  is  faint  but  pur- 
suing. We  have  been  in  the  holy  state  of  matrimony 
five  years,  and  never  a  word  of  complaint  has  fallen 
from  the  dear  soul's  lips. 

SIR  PETER.  Re-markable!  And  all  that  time 
Pomander  Walk  has  seen  scarcely  anything  of  her. 

(MRS.  POSKETT  begins  to  come  down.    JANE  goes 
to  L.  of  BROOKE.) 

BROOKE.  She  has  been  much  occupied — much 
occupied. 

SIR  PETER.     Four  olive-branches — in  five  years. 

BROOKE.  Of  the  female  sex — Number  four. 
(Pointing  to  baby) 

(JANE  goes  to  MRS.  POSKETT.) 

SIR  PETER.  And  another  coming!  That's  right, 
Brooke !  Do  your  duty,  and  damn  the  consequences ! 
— But  let's  have  a  boy  next  time — make  a  sailor 
of  him,  what? 

(MRS.  POSKETT  has  come  down  with  some  em- 
broidery. JANE  goes  out  R.  u.  E.  with  the 
baby.) 


18  POMANDER  WALK. 

MRS.  POSKETT.    Good  afternoon,  gentlemen. 
(They  rise.) 

SIR  PETER.  (Starting)  Gobblessmysoul !  Sei> 
yant,  Mrs.  Poskett. 

(Business  with  pipes.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Oh !  Don't  put  your  pipes  away 
— please!  I  have  been  well  trained.  Alderman 
Poskett  smoked,  even  indoors.  (JiM  enters.  She 
sits)  Can  I  sit  down  ?  (BROOKE  moves  tray  to  back 
of  tree)  Now,  go  on  talking.  Just  as  though  I 
wasn't  here.  (MRS.  POSKETT  sits  c.  SIR  PETER  R.) 

SIR  PETER.  Hah — hum!  (An  awkward  pause. 
JIM  brings  the  third  pewter) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Promptly  seising  it)  Forme? 
— How  thoughtful  of  you !  (She  drains  it  off  in  one 
long,  ecstatic  drink) 

(SiR  PETER  and  BROOKE-HOSKYN  can  only  stare  at 
each  other.) 

SIR  PETER.    Jim — another! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Bashfully)  Oh,  no!  I  couldn't 
Reely  and  positively,  I  couldn't ! 

SIR  PETER.  (Severely)  We  was  expecting  Mr. 
Pringle,  ma'am. 

(JiM  retires.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Ah,  poor  Mr.  Pringle!  Poor 
fellow.  I  was  rather  alarmed  when  he  came  a 
month  ago.  A  musician,  you  know!  One  never 
knows  what  their  morals  may  be. 

SIR  PETER  Well,  he's  quiet  enough — except 
when  he's  making  a  noise! — hahal 


POMANDER  WALK.  19 

(BROOKE  ostentatiously  ignores  the  joke.) 

BROOKE.  He  is  some  sort  of  a  cousin  to  the 
Misses  Pennymint,  I  am  told. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Mysteriously)  Yes — we  are 
told.  But  who  knows  ?  I  fear — I  fear,  he  is — sh ! — 
a  lodger ! 

BROOKE.  (Shocked)  You  don't  say  so!  A 
lodger !  Heavens ! 

SIR  PETER.    Why,  dash  it,  you  yourself ! 

BROOKE.  (Sternly)  The  Rev.  Dr.  Sternroyd, 
who  inhabits  the  lower  portion  of  my  house  is  my 
guest,  sir ! 

SIR  PETER.    Oh !— Ah !— Hum ! 

BROOKE.  If  from  time  to  time  he  chooses  to  offer 
my  wife  a  small  token  of  his  appreciation,  that  is  not 
a  matter  of  public  concern.  (Retires  up  stage, 
indignant) 

\  SIR  PETER.  (Showing  symptoms  of  discomfort 
'at  the  tone  the  conversation  is  taking)  Where's 
'that  cat  of  yours,  ma'am  ? 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Sempronius  ?  The  dear  thing  is 
'so  happy!  He's  in  the  front  garden,  listening  to 
'your  dear  thrush. 

SIR  PETER.     (Half  rising)     By  Jehoshaphat — ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Oh,  don't  be  alarmed!  Sem- 
pronius adores  him.  He  wouldn't  touch  a  hair  of 
your  thrush's  head ! 

SIR  PETER.  (Sitting  again)  I  warn  you,  ma'am ! 
If  he  does,  I'll  wing  him ! 

'(BASIL  PRINGLE  comes  out  of  No.  4  and  towards 
the  elm.    Comes  L.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  You  playful  creature!  (Enter 
JIM  with  fourth  pewter — comes  down  £)  Why, 
you've  a  heart  like  butter. 

SIR  PETER.      (Indignant)     Me,  ma'am!     Me! 


20 


POMANDER  WALK. 


(Sees  BASIL)      Ah,    Mr.   Pringle!      (Pointing   to 
JIM)     Here's  your  pewter. 

BASIL.  Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Poskett  —  Gentle- 
men —  Thank  you,  Admiral,  but  you'll  excuse  me, 
I'm  sure.  I  have  a  long  night's  work. 


A-  he  gets  near 
contents  to  the 


(JiM  takes  pewter  back  to  No.  i. 
the  house  he  drinks  off  the 
EYESORE'S  disgust.) 

SIR  PETER.    Fiddling  at  Vauxhall? 

BASIL.  As  usual,  Sir  Peter.  It  is  a  gala  night: 
Fireworks. 

MRS.  POSKETT.     Fireworks!     Oh!     Ravishing! 

BASIL.  And  Mrs.  Poole  is  to  sing  —  and 
Incledon  - 

SIR  PETER.  (Jumping  tip)  Incledon?  —  Then, 
by  gum,  I  must  be  there  !  He  was.  a  sailor,  y'know. 
I  remember  him  in  '83.  On  the  Raisonable  !  Lord 
Hervey,  and  Pigot  and  Hughes  —  they'd  have  him 
up  to  sing  glees  together  !  —  Lord  !  Did  ye  ever  hear 
him  sing:  —  (Sings  very  jovially) 


A    health  tottie  Cap-teinand  of-fkers too,  and    all  who  be-longtotlw 


j 


jo-vial  crew  on        board  of  the  A-ne— thu-sa!' 
BASIL.    To-night  he  sings  Tom  Bowling. 
SIR  PETER.     Ah! — (Sings  with  tear-compelling 
sentiment) 


Here  a  sheer  hulk  lies- poor TomBow-ling! 


POMANDER  WALK.  21 

JIM.  (From  upper  window  of  No.  I,  howls) 
*  Here  a  sheer  hulk " 

SIR  PETER.  (Turning  and  shaking  his  fist  at 
him)  Ah,  you  noisy  swab — ! 

(JiM  shuts  window  and  disappears.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (In  tears)  Oh,  don't,  Sir 
Peter!  Alderman  Poskett  used  to  sing  just  like 
that.  You  could  hear  him  a  mile  off,  but  you  could 
never  tell  what  tune  it  was. 

SIR  PETER.    Gobblessysoul ! — I  beg  your  pardon ! 

BROOKE.  (To  BASIL)  Are  we  not  to  see  the 
Misses  Pennymint  to-day? 

BASIL.    They  are  very  busy. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Demurely)  I  saw  Miss  Ruth 
sewing  at  a  ball-dress.  (Slily  malicious)  Which 
of  them's  going  to  a  ball  ? 

BASIL.     (Mysteriously)    Ah — ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  I've  seen  them  making  wedding- 
dresses,  and  even — (With  pretty  confusion)  hehe ! — • 
christening  robes! 

BROOKE.  (Loftily)  I  trust  you  do  not  insinuate 
Pomander  Walk  harbours  mantua-makers  ? 

BASIL.  (Quietly)  It  harbours  a  poor,  hunch- 
back fiddler! 

SIR  PETER.  (Quickly)  The  Misses  Pennymint 
are  estimable  ladies,  and  we  are  all,  I  am  happy  to 
say,  like  one  family.  What,  Brooke? 

BROOKE.    Um — precisely.    With  poor  relations. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (To  SIR  PETER)  Do  you  in- 
clude the  French  people  at  Number  five? 

SIR  PETER.  Certainly.  They  are  not  French, 
ma'am;  and  if  they  were,  they  couldn't  help  it. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Giggling,  and  pointing  to  the 
EYESORE)  Do  you  include  the  Eyesore  ? 

SIR  PETER.  (Indignant)  No,  I  do  not! — He 
doesn't  live  here.  If  England  were  under  a  proper 
government,  he  would  t>e  hanged  for  trespassing. 


22  POMANDER  WALK. 

I  have  tried  to  remove  him,  but— ha!— it  appears 
he  has  as  much  right  here  as  any  of  us ! 

BASIL.    After  all,  he  never  moves  from  one  spot. 

MRS.  POSKETT.    He  never  speaks  to  anybody. 

(MADAME  LACHESNAIS,  a  very  beautiful  woman,  no 
longer  in  her  first  youth,  appears  at  the  door  of 
No.  5  followed  by  her  daughter,  MARJOLAINE, 
a  girl  of  17,  and  by  NANETTE,  a  French  Bonne, 
in  a  Breton  costume.  NANETTE  carries  a 
basket.) 

SIR  PETER.    He'd  better  not,  ma'am ! 

BROOKE.  And  I  will  do  him  the  justice  to  say,  he 
never  catches  a  fish! 

BASIL.  (Seeing  them,  and  drawing  the  attention 
of  the  others  to  them)  Madame ! 

(BROOKE-HOSKYN  is  down  L.  NANETTE  goes  along 
the  pavement  to  corner  of  garden  of  No.  i  (R.) 
MARJOLAINE  with  her.  All  the  men  rise.  SIR 
PETER  whistles.  JIM  comes  across  from  No. 
i.  SIR  PETER  indicates  the  pewters,  pipes f  etc., 
which  JIM  takes  back  to  the  house.) 

MADAME.  (Seeing  the  group  under  the  tree) 
Ah!  Good  afternoon!  I  am  going  marketing  in 
Chiswick  with  Nanette.  (SiR  PETER  and  MRS. 
POSKETT  R.)  She  cannot  speak  a  word  of  English, 
you  know.  (Comes  c.)  Marjolaine,  you  may  take 
your  book  under  the  tree,  if  our  friends  will  have 
you. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Very  slight  French  accent)  It 
is  nearly  time  for  my  singing  lesson,  Maman. 

MADAME.  Ah,  yes — Mr.  Basil,  I  fear  you  find 
her  very  backward. 

BASIL.    Oh,  no,  Madame — I  assure  you. 

MADAME.  (To  MARJOLAINE)  Ask  Miss  Barbara 
to  chaperon  you,  as  I  have  to  go  out. 


POMANDER  WALK.  23 

MARJOLAINE.    Bien,  Maman. 

MADAME.  (Smiling)  You  are  to  speak  English, 
dear. 

MARJOLAINE.  Bien,  Maman — Oh !  I  mean,  yes, 
mother!  (Goes  up  stage) 

(BROOKE  is  about  to  offer  his  arm  to  MADAME.    SIR 
PETER  brushes  past  him.) 

SIR  PETER.    May  I  not  offer  you  my  escort  ? 
(MRS.  POSKETT  snorts.) 

MADAME.  (Laughing)  No,  no ! — I  have  Nanette. 
Nothing  can  happen  to  me  while  I  have  Nanette. 
(Crosses  and  goes  up  R.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (R.)  As  if  anything  ever  could 
happen  in  Chiswick! 

(SiR  PETER  follows  MADAME  up.    BASIL  goes  R. 
of  tree  and  sits.) 

MADAME.  (To  MARJOLAINE)  I  shall  not  be 
gone  half  an  hour.  (She  goes  out  with  NANETTE, 
round  the  corner) 

BROOKE.  (To  MARJOLAINE)  Won't  you  come 
and  sit  down? — 

(MRS.  POSKETT  goes  up  and  round  to  L.) 

MARJOLAINE.  In  a  moment.  (At  RUTH'S 
window)  Miss  Ruth — is  Barbara  busy? 

RUTH.     She's  closetted  with  Doctor  Johnson. 

MARJOLAINE.  Will  you  ask  her  to  come  out  when 
she's  done?  (She  comes  to  the  elm) 

BASIL.     (Rising)     Mademoiselle 

MARJOLAINE.  Pray  don't  move.  Barbara  will  be 
here  in  a  moment.  (Simply)  She  is  with  Doctor 
Johnson. 


'24  POMANDER  WALK. 

(RuxH  and  BARBARA  appear  at  the  door  of  their 
house.  From  the  moment  BARBARA  appears 
BASIL'S  eyes  follow  her  with  rapt  attention.) 

BASIL.  (Gravely)  Ah,  yes!— Dr.  Johnson  I — 
Surely  it  is  very  pathetic ! 

BROOKE.  Dr.  Johnson !  I  thought  the  old  thing 
was  dead. 

SIR  PETER.  Oh,  she  means  the  parrot.  (Sitting 
c.)  Come  and  sit  down  Missie ;  come  and  sit  down. 

(MRS.  POSKETT  promptly  comes  and  sits  L.  of  SIR 
PETER;  he  turns;  sees  her;  rises,  and  goes  R. 
to  MARJOLAINE.) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Sitting  beside  him)  I  used  to  be 
so  afraid  of  you,  Sir  Peter ! 

SIR  PETER.    Gobblessmysoul !    Why? 

MARJOLAINE.  You  were  so  angry  with  us  for 
painting  our  house  white ! 

(RUTH  and  BARBARA  come  out  of  No.  4.  BARBARA 
is  of  that  age  which  is  never  entered  on  the 
census  paper;  but  is  still  extemely  pretty  and 
fresh.  Both  are  obviously  very  poor,  and  ob» 
viously  ladies.) 

SIR  PETER.  (Clumsily)  Oh — hum — the  others 
were  green,  d'ye  see.  But  it's  an  admirable  con* 
trast. 

(MRS.  POSKETT  snorts.    BASIL  rises.) 

BARBARA.  (She  sees  MARJOLAINE  and  runs  to 
her)  Oh,  Marjolaine,  dearest.  Doctor  Johnson 
has  been  most  extraordinarily  eloquent. 

(MARJOLAINE  runs  forward  and  kisses  her,  and 
both  walk  about  with  their  arms  round  each 


POMAITUER  WALK.  25 

other's  waists.    SIR  PETER  goes  up  and  wanders 
round  to  L.) 

RUTH.  (Coming  f.  c  Jer  the  elm) 

Good  afternoon — Direst  Bar'  ra — !  she  has  just 
had  her  hcu:  with  Dr  Johnson  Her  memories  of 
Lieutenant  Ui?,rreb  are  at  their  liveliest.  (Sits  c.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (L  if  tree)  V  :ry  unwholesome, 
7  think. 

RUTH.  (To  BASIL)  Lieutenant  Charles  was  in 
His  Majesty's  Navy,  you  know,  and  dearest  Barbara 
was  affianced  to  him. 

(BROOKE-HOSKYN  is  seated  L.) 

BASIL.    (C  Idly)    So     hav-  heard. 

RUTH.  Unhappily  he  was  abruptly  removed  from 
this  earthly  sphere. 

BASIL.     I  presume  he  fell  in  battle? 

RUTH.    Say,  rather,  in  single  combat. 

SIR  PETER.  (L.  to  BROOKE-HOSKYN)  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  he  was  knocked  on  the  head  outside  a 
tavern.  (He  wanders  R.) 

RUTH.  But  he  had  bestowed  a  token  of  his 
affection  on  dearest  Barbara  in  the  shape  of  the  re- 
markable bird  you  may  have  seen 

BASIL.  The  parrot  who  occupies  the  back  ground- 
floor  parlour  ? 

RUTH.  The  grey  parrot  with  the  red  tail — 
Doctor  Johnson.  Named  after  the  great  Lexicog- 
rapher in  consideration  of  his  astonishing  fluency 
of  speech.  Doctor  Johnson  is  Barbara's  only  con- 
solation. 

BAI>  ,ARA.  (Tn  gazebo  with  MARJOLATNE.  She 
."~  come  up  with  MARJOLAINE,  and  hears  this,  to 
MVRJOLAINE  very  se.itimentcrly)  Yes,  dear.  He 
^peaks  with  Charles's  voice,  (BASIL  rises  and  turns 
ip  stage)  and  says  the  things  Charles  used  to  say. 


26  POMANDER  WALK. 

MARJOLAINE.  How  lovely !  I  wish  I  could  hear 
him. 

BARBARA.  Ah,  no.  Not  even  you  may  share  that 
melancholy  joy.  (Rises,  but  goes  back  to  seat) 

SIR  PETER.  (Up  R.  to  BASIL)  I  tell  you,  that 
bird's  language  would  silence  Billingsgate.  The 
atmosphere  of  that  room  must  be  solid,  sir !  ( To 
MARJOLAINE)  Well,  Missie,  (MRS.  POSKETT  rises) 
We  all  hope  you've  grown  to  like  the  Walk? 

(BASIL  sits  R.  of  tree.) 

MARJOLAINE.    I  love  it!    And  so  doesAfaman/ 
SIR  PETER.    It  is  a  sheltered  haven.     (He  looks 
around)     Pomander  Walk !    Look  at  it!    A  haven 
of  content !    What  says  the  poet  ?    "  The  world  for- 
getting, by  the  world  forgot." 
ALL.    (Sigh)    Ah! 

(All  stand  in  a  line  across  the  front  of  stage  with 
their  backs  to  the  audience.  After  general 
sigh  of  content  all  move,  break  up  the  line,  and 
form  groups.) 

BARBARA.  When  the  sunlight  falls  on  it  so,  how 
lovely  it  is! 

BASIL.  It  reminds  me  of  the  music  I  am  at  work 
on. 

MARJOLAINE.  (L.  of  BASIL)  What  is  that?  It 
pounds  beautiful  through  the  wall. 

BASIL.  It  is  by  a  new  German  composer.  A 
man  called  Beethoven.  My  old  violin-master, 
Kreutzer,  sent  it  to  me.  (THE  EYESORE  rises  and 
takes  tlw  stump  of  a  villainous  clay  pipe  from  his 
pocket,  and  during  the  next  few  speeches  indicates 
that  he  finds  it  blocked  up,  and  is  unable  to  make 
it  draw)  Ah!  these  new  Germans!  They  are  so 
complicated !  So  difficult.  I  am  old-fashioned,  you 
know.  I  had  the  honour  of  playing  under  Mr. 


POMANDER  WALK.  27 

Haydn  at  the  Salomon  concerts.  Yes!  and  in  the 
very  first  performance  of  his  immortal  Oratorio, 
The  Creation  at  Worcester. 

MARJOLAINE.    Oh ! 

BASIL.    So  I'm  prejudiced. 

SIR  PETER.  I  don't  know  anything  about  your 
new-fangled  fiddle-faddles;  but,  by  Jehoshaphat, 
Prhigle,  play  a  hornpipe,  and  I'll  dance  till  your 
arms  drop  off ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Clapping  her  hands)  Oh!  you 
must  teach  me! 

SIR  PHBTER.    That  I  will,  Missie ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (To  BROOKE-HOSKYN)  No 
fool  like  an  old  fool! 

BARBARA.  (Pointing  at  the  EYESORE,  who  is 
sucking  at,  and  trying  to  blow  through  his  pipe) 
Oh!  The  Eyesore's  going  to  smoke ! 

RUTH.  His  poisonous  tobacco!  Can  you  not 
speak  to  him,  Admiral? 

SIR  PETER.    I  can,  Madam ;  but  he'll  swear  back. 

(The   EYESORE   is  now   trying   to   ram   a  straw 
through  the  stem.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (To  SIR  PETER;  laughing)  And 
then,  of  course,  you're  helpless ! 

SIR  PETER.  Not  at  all,  ma'am.  I  hope  I  can 
swear  with  any  man;  but — the  ladies ! 

BROOKE.    Thank  heaven!    His  pipe  won't  draw! 

(EYESORE  throws  away  his  pipe  on  stage.) 
RUTH.    He  throws  it  away.    We  are  saved ! 

(ENTER  THE  REVEREND  JACOB  STERNROYD,  round 
the  corner.  He  is  a  shrivelled-up  old  gentle- 
man in  a  rusty  black  suit,  and  a  rusty  brown 
wig;.  He  wears  large  horn  spectacles.  He  is 
carrying  a  quantity  of  books.) 


28  POMANDER  WALK. 

BASIL.  Ah!  Here  is  our  good  Doctor  Stern- 
royd, 

BROOKE.  With  his  books,  as  usual.  What  a 
brain  1 

SIR  PETER.    Old  dryasdust ! 

BASIL.     (Startled)    Look! 

(STERNROYD  stops  short;  picks  up  the  EYESORE'S 
pipe;  raises  it  close  to  his  spectacles,  and  shows 
symptoms  of  frantic  joy.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Bless  the  man !  He's  picked  up 
the  Eyesore's  filthy  pipe! 

BROOKE.    But  why  the  step-dance? 

SIR  PETER.  (Shouting)  Doctor  Sternroyd, 
ahoy! 

STERNROYD.  (Becoming  aware  of  the  group) 
Dear  me! — Tut,  tut!  I  had  not  observed  you! — 
Ah,  my  friends!  (Comes  down  c.)  Congratulate 
me! 

SIR  PETER.    What  about,  Doctor? 

(ALL  gather  round  DOCTOR  STERNROYD.) 

STERNROYD.  (Exhibiting  the  pipe)  This.  A 
beautiful  specimen  of  an  early  Elizabethan  tobacco- 

BROOKE.  (Just  R.  of  DR.  STERNROYD)  That, 
sir?  Why,  that's • 

(SiR  PETER  lays  his  hand  on  BROOKE'S  arm  and 
puts  his  finger  to  his  lips.) 

STERNROYD.  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  surprise. 
Yes,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  they  are  sometimes 
found  in  the  alluv;~l  deposit  of  the  Thames. 

BROOKE.    Well,  I'm 1 


POMANDER  WALK.  29 

(Again  SIR  PETER  silences  him.) 

STERNROYD.  But  even  my  friend,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  who  collects  them,  does  not 
possecs  so  perfect  a  specimen ! 

MRS.  POSKETTT.    But — Doctor ! 

(SiR  PETER  motions  the  whole  group  to  silence.) 

STERNROYD.  Ah,  you  don't  understand  the  value 
of  these  things.  Out  of  this  fragment  it  is  possible 
to  reconstruct  an  entire  epoch.  Yes,  yes!  (crosses 
L.)  I  shall  read  a  paper  on  it. — Ah,  if  only  my 
dear  wife,  my  belovea  Araminta,  were  here  to  see 
it !  (He  shuffles  off  into  No.  3) 

(JANE  re-enters  R.  u.  E.  with  the  baby.     Comes 
slowly  along  the  pavement.) 

BROOKE.  Amazing!  (To  SIR  PETER)  Why 
wouldn't  you  let  me  tell  him ! 

SIR  PETER.  Ah,  Brooke!  We  all  live  on  our 
illusion.,.  The  more  we  believe,  the  happier  we  are ! 

RUTH.    How  true! 

(Enter  CAROLINE  THRING  followed  by  a  footman.) 

JIM.  (Shouting)  Admiral!  Pirate  in  the  off- 
ing 1 

(All  turn.) 

SIR  PETER.    Ah?    Who's  this,  now? 

CAROLINE.  (To  EYESORE)  Fellow i  is  this 
Pomander  Lane?  (EYESORE  doesn't  answer)  Ex- 
traordinary! (To  JIM)  Fellow !  is  this  Pomander 
Lane? 

JIM.    You've  lost  your  bearin's,  mam! 

CAROLINE.  What  savages!  (To  BROOKE- 
HOSKYN)  You!  Is  this  Pomander  Lane ? 


30  POMANDER  WALK. 

BROOKE.    This,  mam,  is  Pomander  Walk! 

CAROLINE.  Oh,  well,  same  thing!  (Coming  L. 
c.) 

SIR  PETER.    (Indignant)    Excuse  me,  mam ! 

CAROLINE.  (Addressing  everybody)  My  good 
people,  I  have  been  appointed  District  Visitor  foi 
this  part  of  your  Parish.  District  Visitor,  to  giv* 
advice  and  distribute  alms.  (General  disgust. 
She  turns  to  RUTH  )  Where  are  your  children  ? 

RUTH.    I  am  a  spinster ! 

CAROLINE.  Are  there  no  children?  (Sees  JANE 
with  the  baby)  Ah,  yes.  (To  SIR  PETER  and  MRS. 
POSKETT)  Father  and  mother,  I  suppose. 

SIR  PETER.     Gobblessmysoul ! 

(And  MRS.  POSKETT  is  speechless  with  indignation.) 

BROOKE.  This,  mam,  is  my  youngest — the 
youngest  of  three. 

JANE.    Four,  master. 

BROOKE.     Four — I  haven't  counted  them  lately. 

CAROLINE.  I  will  give  your  wife  instructions 
about  their  management.  (Crosses  to  R.  c.) 

BROOKE.  You'll— Ha,  ha!— She'll  teach  Selina! 
Ho  ho! 

CAROLINE.  (To  MARJOLAINE)  What  do  I  see? 
Curls?  At  your  age?  Your  hair  is  to  be  quitft 
straight  when  I  return ! 

MARJOLAINE.  Don't  hurry  me  then,  give  me 
lots  and  lots  of  time. 

MRS.  POSKETT.     (Boiling)     Now,  Sir  Peter! 

SIR  PETER.  (To  CAROLINE)  Madam— Hum— 
we  give  alms,  and  we  do  not  take  advice.  You're 
on  the  wrong  tack.  (Pointing  to  R.  u.  E.)  That  is 
your  course  for  Pomander  Lane! 

RUTH.  ] 

MRS.  POSKETT.     V     (Pointing)     That! 

BROOKE. 


POMANDER  WALK.  31 

SIR  PETER.    Jim,  pilot  the  lady  out. 

JIM.    Ay,  ay,  Admiral. 

CAROLINE.  Very  well.  I  see  I  shall  have  diffi- 
culty here;  but  I  shall  come  again.  I  am  not  so 
easily  beaten.  I  shall  come  again!  I  shall  come 
again  I 

(Exit,  JIM  leading  the  way.    ALL  laugh.) 

SIR  PETER.    I  gave  her  her  sailing  orders ;  what  ? 

MRS.  POSKETT.    What  a  wonderful  man  you  are! 

BASIL.    Miss  Marjory,  it  is  time  for  our  lesson. 

MARJOLAINE.  Yes.  (To  BARBARA)  Maman 
told  me  to  ask  yot;  tc  come  with  me. 

RUTH.  (To  BARBARA)  Shall  I  take  your  place, 
dear? 

(BASIL  starts.) 

BARBARA.  (Eagerly  and  with  her  eye  on  BASIL) 
No,  no !  I  love  to  hear  her ! 

(MARJOLAINE,    BARBARA   and   BASIL  go   up   and 
stand  talking  together  at  the  gate  of  No.  4.) 

RUTH.  (Coming  down,  to  MRS.  POSKETT)  Will 
you  come  in  and  have  a  dish  of  tea  ? 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (To  RUTH  and  MARJOLAINE) 
No,  thank  you.  Sh!  I'm  going — you'll  never 
guess! — (Giggling)  I'm  going  to  comb  my  wig! 

(RUTH  goes  up  L.) 

SIR  PETER.  (To  BROOKE)  You  won't  play  any 
more? 

BROOKE.  I  think  not,  Sir  Peter.  (Waving  his 
hand  to  the  upstair  window  of  No.  3)  Selina  will 
be  expecting  me. 


32  POMANDER  WALK. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  I  wonder  you  can  bear  to  leave 
her  so  much. 

(RuTH  comes  down.) 

BROOKE.  It  tears  my  heartstrings,  ma'am;  but 
she  will  have  it  so.  "  Brooke,"  she  says,  "  your 
place  is  in  the  fashionable  world."  So  I  sacrifice 
my  inclinations  to  her  pleasure. 

RUTH.     How  unselfish! 

BROOKE.  And  she  has  many  innocent  pastimes. 
At  the  present  moment  the  dear  soul  is  joyously 
darning  my  socks. 

(RuTH  goes  to  door  of  her  house.  Two  bearers 
have  brought  a  sedan  to  No.  i.  LORD  OXFORD, 
a  very  distinguished-looking  man  of  forty- 
five,  steps  out  cf  it.  The  bearers  retire  to  the 
corner  and  watch  the  EYESORE  fishing,  to  his 
disgust.  If  there  is  no  room  for  the  sedan, 
LORD  OXFORD  walks  in.) 

MRS.  POSKEXX.    Company,  Sir  Peter! 

SIR  PEXER.  Eh  ?— Gobblessmysoul !— Is  it  possi- 
ble?—My  old  friend,  Lord  Otford!  (He  hurries 
up,  shouting)  Otford!  Otford! 

BROOKE.  (Has  started  violently)  Lord  Otford 
by  all  that's  unlucky !  (He  makes  for  No.  3) 

MRS.  POSKEXX.    What's  the  matter? 

BROOKE.  Nothing,  ma'am.  (With  great  dig- 
nity) We  differ  in  politics.  There  might  be 
bloodshed!  (He  hurries  into  No.  3) 

MRS.  POSKETT.    Well,  I  never! 

(She  moves  up  to  No.  2.  RUXH,  BARBARA,  MAR- 
JOLAINE  and  BASIL  are  just  going  into  Na> 

OXFORD.    Ah,  you're  looking  well,  Peter! 


POMANDER  WALK.  33 

SIR  PETER.  (Shaking  him  by  both  hands)  My 
dear  Jack !  My  dear  old  Jack !  Come  in ! 

(RUTH  exit    into  house  followed  by  BARBARA  and 
BASIL.) 

OXFORD.     Looks  pleasant  under  the  elm. 
SIR  PETER.    Why,  come  along,  then ! 

(They  come  down.) 

OTFORD.  (Alluding  to  MRS.  POSKETT,  whom 
they  have  just  passed)  I  say,  Peter!  In  clover, 
you  rascal! 

SIR  PETER.    Dam  fine  woman — what? 

OTFORD.  (Alluding  to  MARJOLAINE,  who  is  in 
the  doorway  of  No.  4)  Ay,  and  pretty  girl  on 
doorstep!  (Arrested)  By  Jove! 

SIR  PETER.    Dainty  little  thing,  eh? 

(Exit  MARJOLAINE.) 

OTFORD.  (Lost  in  thought)  Yes — reminds  me 
vaguely — (Change)  Well!  You're  hale  and 
hearty ! 

SIR  PETER.  Nothing  amiss  with  you,  neither.  I 
am  glad  to  see  you!  Thought  you  was  in  Russia. 

OTFORD.  Got  home  a  month  ago.  Not  married 
yet? 

SIR  PETER.  Peter  Antrobus  married?  No, 
my  lad.  All  women,  yes.  One  woman — no ! 

OTFORD.     Sure  nobody  can  hear  us? 

(They  come  to  sent  under  tree.) 

SIR  PETER.    No,  no. 

OTFORD.     Peter,  I  want  your  advipe  and  help. 

SIR  PETER.     Woman? 


54  POMANDER  WALK. 

OXFORD.  Yes.  Not  my  woman,  though,  this 
time.  It's  about  my  boy — Jack. 

SIR  PETER.  Aha!  Chip  of  the  old  block— 
what? 

OXFORD.    No,  no.    Marriage. 

SIR  PETER.    Gobblessmysoul !    How  old  is  he? 

OTFORD.    Twenty-three. 

SIR  PETER.    Good  Lord ! 

OTFORD.  I  want  to  see  Jack  settled.  There's  the 
succession  to  think  of. 

SIR  PETER.  (Laughing)  You  talk  as  though 
you  was  a  King! 

OTFORD.  (Laughing)  Sc  I  am,  in  a  small  way. 
Think  of  the  estate !  I  want  Jack  to  take  the  reins. 

SIR  PETER.    How  can  he,  when  he's  on  the  sea? 

OTFORD.  He's  to  retire  as  soon  as  he  gets  his 
captaincy. 

SIR  PETER.  (Jumping  up)  Retire! — now?  with 
Bony  ready  to  gobble  us  up! 

OTFORD.  Don't  you  see?  With  all  this  battle 
and  bloodshed,  now's  the  time  for  Jack  to  give  me 
a  grandson.  Why,  hang  it,  man!  If  he  was  to 
die  without  issue,  the  title  and  the  estate  would  go 
to  that  Whig  scoundrel,  James  Sayle. 

SIR  PETER.    That  won't  do. 

OTFORD.  Of  course  it  won't.  Now  there's  old 
Wendover's  gel — Caroline  Thring. 

SIR  PETER.  What!  Caroline  Thring! — I've 
heard  of  her — eccentric  party.  And  didn't  I  hear 
there  was  an  affair  with  young  Beauchamp? 

OTFORD.  That's  fallen  through.  She's  an  esti- 
mable person — goes  about  doing  good — distributing 
alms — District  visiting 

SIR  PETER.  (Starts)  District  visiting!—  (With 
a  glance  at  R.  u.  E.)  Well,  well,  but 

OTFORD.  (Impatiently)  Let  me  finish.— Wend- 
over's willing,  and  there's  nothing  in  the  way.  The 
estates  join.  She's  sole  heiress.  Gad,  sir!  That 


POMANDER  WALK.  35 

alliance  would  make  Jack  the  biggest  man  in  the 
three  kingdoms ! 

SIR  PETER.    Is  Jack  fond  of  her? 

OXFORD.  Doesn't  object  to  her.  Hesitates. 
Says  he  don't  want  to  marry  at  all.  Says  he  hasn't 
had  his  fling. 

SIR  PETER.  Well — what's  it  all  got  to  do  with 
me? 

OTFORD.  Ever  since  Jack's  been  home  on  leave, 
he's  done  nothing  but  talk  about  you. 

SIR  PETER.  Good  lad !  I  loved  him  when  he  was 
a  middy  with  me  on  the  Termagent. 

OTFORD.  He  loves  you.  Coming  to  look  you  up. 
When  he  comes,  refer  to  Caroline;  carelessly. 
Say  what  a  fine  gel  she  is. 

SIR  PETER.    But  I've  never  set  eyes  on  her ! 

OTFORD.  Doesn't  matter.  Don't  say  a  word 
about  the  estate.  Refer  to  young  Beauchamp, 
Say,  in  your  time  young  fellers  didn't  let  other 
young  fellers  cut  'em  out.  See? 

SIR  PETER.  You're  a  wily  fox,  Jack.  But, 
heark'ee !  Sure  he's  not  in  love  with  anybody  else  ? 

OTFORD.  He  says  he  isn't.  Oh,  there  may  be  a 
Spanish  Senorita! — Gad,  I  should  be  almost 
ashamed  of  him,  if  there  wasn't!  But  there's  no 

SIR  PETER.  (Meaningly)  No  Lucy  Pry  or, 
what? 

OTFORD.  (Wincing)  No.  (Sadly)  No  Lucy 
Pryor. 

SIR  PETER.  (Contritely)  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Jack;  I'm  sorry. 

OTFORD.  It  still  hurts,  Peter.  Like  an  old  bullet. 
Well,  you'll  do  what  you  can,  eh?  I  don't  want 
you  to  over-do  it.  Just  edge  him  in  the  right  direc- 
tion. 

SIR  PETER.    Keep  his  eye  in  the  wind,  what  ? 

OTFORD.      That's    it.      (Rises    and    crosses   L.) 
Well  ?    Any  newcomers  in  the  Walk  ? 
^     SIR  PETER.      (Laughing)     Yes,  two  oil-lamps. 


36  POMANDER  WALK. 

They  wanted  to  give  us  their  new-fangled,  stink- 
ing gas,  but  the  whole  Walk  mutinied. 

OTFORD.    Very  fine,  but 

SIR  PETER.     Only  used  when  there's  no  moon. 

OTFORD.    But  I  meant  people. 

SIR  PETER.  People?  Yes.  A  French  widow 
and  her  daughter. 

OTFORD.  French,  eh?  (Pointing  to  No.  4) 
What,  the  little  gel  I  saw  going  in  ? 

SIR  PETER.  Yes.  ( Takes  OTFORD  down  R.,  away 
from  houses)  They're  not  French;  but  the 
mother's  the  widow  of  a  Frenchman.  Madame 
Lachesnais.* 

OTFORD.    Pleasant  ? 

SIR  PETER.  De-lightful.  The  Walk  was  shy  of 
'em  at  first.  So  was  I.  Thought  they  were 
Foreigners..  All  very  well  for  you  and  me,  Jack, 
but  think  of  Mrs.  Poskett!  Think  of  the  Misses 
Pennymint !  Think  of  the  Brooke-Hoskyns ! 

OTFORD.    Eh?    Who's  that? 

SIR  PETER.  Sh!  Number  three.  Very  distin- 
guished man. 

OTFORD.     Man  of  family? 

SIR  PETER.  Gobblessmysoul,  yes.  Four  little 
gels  ;  eldest  four  years  old;  there'll  be  another 
directly.  Moves  in  the  highest  circles.  Hote  tonn, 
Jack.  Dines  in  town  regularly  four  times  a  week. 
Never  met  him  ? 

TFORD.      I    seem   to   remember   a   man    called 
Hoskyn. 

SIR  PETER.  This  is  Brooke — hum — Hoskyn: 
with  a  hyphen. 

OTFORD.    Well — go  on  about  the  French  widow. 

(SiR  PETER  sits  under  tree.) 
SrR  PETER.    Well,  one  morning  their  chaise  was 

*L»-sher-ney,    'fidcPe    yllable  very  short. 


POMANDER  WALK.  37 

signalled  from  the  back  of  the  Misses  Pennymint 
Chaises  can't  get  beyond  the  corner  of  (Points  to 
it)  Pomander  Lane;  so  I  had  time  to  put  on  my 
uniform,  and  my  medals,  and  my  cocked  hat. 

OXFORD.  You  meant  to  show  'em  you  were  Ad- 
miral on  your  own  f  uarter-deck,  eh  ? 

SIR  PETER.  ^Sits  beside  him)  That's  it.  And 
th;n — well,  then  Madame  c  me  round  the  corner, 
and  then  M;  'ermersell.  They  didn't  walk,  Jack; 
they  floated.  And  what  did  I  do?  I  just  sneaked 
back  into  harbour,  and  struck  my  colours.  Yes ! — 
She  was  the  most  gracious  creature  I  had  ever  seen. 
And  the  gel — well,  you  saw  her.  They  brought 
something  new  into  the  Walk. 

OXFORD.    What  d'you  mean  ? 

SIR  PEXER.  (With  a  touch  of  pathos)  We're 
rather  an  elderly  lot,  y'know.  Beyond  our  spring- 
time, Jack,  and  that's  the  truth.  When  we  sit  and 
think,  we  think  of  the  past,  and  try  not  to  think  of 
the  future.  And  suddenly,  here  was  this  Grace 
and  Beauty  and  Youth  in  the  midst  of  us.  It  gave 
the  Walk  P  shock,  I  can  tell  ye.  All  the  women  lay- 
to  in  repairing-dock  for  days.  Mrs.  Poskett  never 
showed  her  nose  till  she  had  got  a.  new  wig  from 
town;  Pringle  tells  me  he  caught  poor  Barbara 
Pennymint  looking  at  hersel "  in  the  glass,  and  cry- 
ing; and  Brooke-Hoskyn  says  his  wife,  who  was 
watching  'em  come,  sobbed  her  heart  out,  and  made 
him  swear  he  loved  her. 

OXFORD.  By  Jove!  You  make  me  want  to  see 
these  paragons. 

SIR  PEXER.  Madame's  gone  shopping.  (Rises) 
She'll  be  back  directly.  Wait,  and  I'll  present  you. 

OXFORD.  (Moving  up.  The  Sedan-bearers  get 
ready)  Not  to-day.  I'm  on  my  way  to  old  Wend- 
over. 

SIR  PEXER.  (Accompanying  him)  Ah,  that 
marriage  ? 


J8  POMANDER  WALK. 

OTFORD.  Yes,  to  clinch  it.  When  Jack  com«s, 
Peter,  you'll  do  what  I  ask  ? 

SIR  PETER.  Yes,  yes.  Well,  I  hope  I  shall  see 
Jack  soon. 

OTFORD.  (Shaking  hands,  and  getting  into  the 
sedan)  You'll  do  what  you  can? 

SIR  PETER.  (Walking  with  the  sedan  till  it  turns 
the  comer)  I  will.  I  will.  God  bless  you.  (He 
turns  and  sees  MARJOLAINE  coming  out  of  No.  4) 
There  now,  Missie! — A  moment  earlier,  and  I'd 
have  presented  you  to  a  very  great  man. 

MARJOLAINE.    Oh  ? 

SIR  PETER.  (Confidentially)  I  say!— We'll 
have  a  go  at  that  hornpipe  by-and-by — what? 
(He  goes  into  No.  i,  humming  the  hornpipe  and 
sketching  its  step) 

(MARJOLAINE  crosses  to  the  elm*  Sits  down  R.  c. 
opens  her  book,  and  reads.  Much  to  the 
amazement  of  the  EYESORE,  a  small  boat  pulls 
up  at  POMANDER  STEPS.  JACK  SAYLE,  a  breezy 
lad  of  23,  makes  it  fast  and  lands.  He  is  in  the 
uniform  of  a  naval  lieutenant,  but  carries  his 
coat  on  his  arm,  and  puts  it  on  as  he  examines 
the  houses.  He  comes  down  the  Walk,  exam- 
ining all  the  houses.  Presently  he  is  below 
MARJOLAINE  and  sees  her.  He  stands  quite 
unconsciously  staring  with  frank  admiration. 
MARJOLAINE  sees  him  out  of  the  corner  of  her 
eye;  fidgets  with  her  book;  tries  to  read;  can't; 
shuts  the  book  with  a  bang,  and  gets  up,  indig- 
nant.) 

JACK.     (Involuntarily)     I  beg  your  pardon. 

MARJOLAINE.      (On  her  dignity,  very  haughty, 
trying  to  look  sir  feet  tall)     Why? 
^  JACK.^  (Laughing)     Oh!— I'm  so  glad  you  said 


POMANDER  WALK.  39 

MARJOLAINE.  (Genuinely  puzzled,  and  a  little 
off  her  guard)  Why  ? 

JACK.  (Good  naturedly)  Well,  if  you'd  said 
"  There's  no  occasion ; "  or  if  you  hadn't  said  any- 
thing, our  conversation  would  have  been  finished, 
you  know. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Matter-of-fact)  It  is  finished. 
(She  moves  to  go) 

JACK.  (Holding  up  his  hand)  No.  It's  my 
turn  to  ask  you  a  question. 

MARJOLAINE.    Eh—?    ("hein?") 

JACK.  I'm  Jack  Sayle,  at  your  service.  I'm  a 
lieutenant  in  the  Navy;  and  I've  just  rowed  down 
from  Richmond — three  miles.  I'm  home  on  leave ; 
and  I'm  looking  for  an  old  friend. 

MARJOLAINE.  All  that  is  very  interesting,  but  it 
isn't  a  question. 

JACK.  (Rather  injured)  I  thought  it  was  polite 
to  tell  you  who  I  was. — It's  uncommon  hot,  and 
when  I  saw  this  terrace,  I  said  there'd  be  sure  to 
be  one  here.  Is  there  ? 

MARJOLAINE.     (Impatient)    What? 

JACK.    An  inn. 

MARJOLAINE.    Certainly  not.     (Crosses  towards 

No.  5) 

JACK.    Can't  you  tell  me  where  there  is  one  ? 

MARJOLAINE.     I  do  not  frequent  them. 

JACK.  No? — Sorry. — I  am  dry.  You  see,  I've 
rowed  all  the  way  from  Richmond — five  miles. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Resisting  a  desire  to  laugh)  I'm 
afraid  you'll  have  to  row  all  the  way  back  again. 
Good  afternoon.  (She  moves  towards  house) 

JACK.  (Pensively)  Curious,  how  different 
everything  is ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Arrested  at  gate)  Different 
what  is? 

JACK.  Why,  if  I'd  met  an  old  gentleman  outside 
his  house  in  Spain,  and  he'd  seen  how  I  was  suffer- 


40  POMANDER  WALK. 

ing,  he'd  have  said  his  house  was  mine.      (Silt 
under  tree) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Indignant)  I  am  not  an  old 
gentleman ;  I  haven't  any  house  in  Spain,  and  it's  a 
shame  to  say  I'm  inhospitable. 

JACK.    I  didn't.    I  only  said  it  was  different. 
MARJOLAINE.      (Hesitating)      Are    you    really 
suffering  ? 

JACK.  (Grinning)  Intolerably.  (Groaning) 
Look  at  my  face ! 

MARJOLAINE.  I  can't  ask  you  in,  because 
Maman  and  Nanette  are  out. 

JACK.  (R.  c.)  It's  of  no  consequence.  (With 
the  air  of  a  martyr)  I  must  row  back.  Seven 
miles.  Against  the  tide.  Ah,  well ! 

MARJOLAINE.  I'm  sure  Maman  would  ask  you 
in,  if  she  was  here. 

JACK.    I'm  quite  sure  of  that. 
MARJOLATNE.     And  I  think  she  would  not  like 
me  to  be,  as  you  say.  inhospitable. 

JACK.  I  didn't  say  it;  but  I'm  quite  sure  she 
wouldn't. 

MARJOLAINE.     I  might — I  might  bring  you  out 

something 

JACK.  (With  assumed  indifference)  Oh,  don't 
trouble. 

MARJOLAINE.  But  what  would  the  neighbours 
say,  if  they  saw  me  feeding  an  entire  stranger? 

JACK.  But  I'm  not.  (Jumps  up)  I've  told  you 
my  name.  That's  as  much  as  anybody  ever  knows 
about  anybody. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Examining  the  Walk)  Number 
One's  asleep;  Number  two's  combing  her  wig; 
Number  three's  nursing  his  wife;  Dr.  Sternroyd 
doesn't  matter;  and  the  Eyesore's  got  his  back 
turned.  I'll  risk  it.  (Turns  to  go  in,  then  comes 
back)  What  would  you  like? 

JACK.  Oh,  my  dear  young  lady! — It's  not  for 
me  to  sav.  Anything  you  offer  me — anything! 


POMANDER  WALK.  41 

MARJOLAINE.  (Ticking  them  off  on  her  fingers) 
We  have  elderberry  wine — cowslip  wine — red-cur- 
rant wine — and  gooseberry  wine — (JACK'S  face  has 
grown  longer  and  longer.  She  sees  it)  Oh,  you  do 
look  ill !  Which  do  you  say  ? 

JACK.  I've  been  brought  up  very  simply.  I 
should  never  think  of  saying  any  of  those.  Haven't 
you  any  beer? 

MARJOLAINE.    Beer !    How  low ! 

JACK.    I  know ;  but 

MARJOLAINE.  (Contemptuously)  We  have  no 
beer. 

JACK.    And  this  is  England !    1  mean 

MARJOLAINE.  I  know !  There's  Maman's  claret. 
She  takes  it  for  her  health.  (Triumphantly) 
What  do  you  say  to  that? 

JACK.  (In  despair)  Oh,  it's  better  than  (Ew- 
thusiastically)  than  beer. 

MARJOLAINE.  Ah!  Now,  will  you  wait  a  min- 
ute (Pointing  to  bench)  Here? 

(MRS.  POSKETT  looks  out  of  her  window.) 

JACK.    I'll  wait  hours,  anywhere. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Seeing  MRS.  POSKETT)  No! 
Better!  Go  into  the  gazebo. 

JACK.    Into  the  what? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Motioning  him  to  the  summer- 
house)  There :  the  summer-house.  (He  goes  in) 
And  keep  quite  still.  (She  lays  her  book  on  the 
bench  in  the  summer-house) 

JACK.  I  say !  You  will  come  back  ?  You're  not 
going  to  leave  me  here  to  perish  of  thirst? 

MARJOLAINE.    That  would  be  a  good  joke! 

JACK.     I'll  carve  your  name  while  you're  gone. 

MARJOLAINE.    No,  you  won't ! 

JACK.    Why  not  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  Because  you  don't  know  it! 
Voila!  (She  trips  laughing  into  No.  5) 


42  POMANDER  WALK. 

JACK.  (Watching  her;  pensively,  to  himself) 
By  George !  By  George !  By  George !  (He  picks 
up  the  book.  Looks  at  the  fly-leaf)  Aha !  "  Lucy 
Pryor  " ! — Lucy  Pryor !  (He  gets  his  knife  out  and 
begins  carving  an  L.  BROOKE-HOSKYN  opens  his 
upstair  window;  he  is  in  his  shirtsleeves  and  is 
smoking  a  pipe.  He  speaks  to  someone  in  the  room) 

BROOKE.  What  a  pity,  my  dearest  Selina,  you 
are  temporarily  deprived  of  the  use  of  your  limbs. 
The  Walk  is  at  its  best.  The  river  is  flowing  by. — 
What  ?  It  always  does  ? — Why  check  my  musings  ? 
— Not  a  living  thing  is  in  sight,  (The  EYESORE 
scratches  his  back)  except  the  Eyesore;  and  he 
enhances  the  beauty  of  his  surroundings  by  con- 
trast. My  smoke  does  not  incommode  you,  my 
own? — you  can  bear  it? — Dear  soul,  who  am  I,  to 
deprive  you  of  an  innocent  pleasure?  (At  this 
moment  MARJOLAINE  comes  out  of  No.  5  with  a 
bottle,  a  tumbler,  and  a  cake  on  a  plate.  BROOKE- 
HOSKYN  is  much  interested.  To  himself)  Hulloa ! 
(To  MARJOLAINE)  Why,  Miss  Marjory ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Nearly  letting  everything  drop 
and  coming  to  a  dead  stop)  Oh! 

(JACK  is  excited.    He  and  MARJOLAINE  exchange 
signals.) 

BROOKE.    Is  your  mother  in  the  arbour? 

MARJOLAINE.    Yes — no ! 

BROOKE.  Indeed?  Then  why  this  genteel  reflec- 
tion? (Speaking  off)  Yes,  my  own ;  I  am  speaking 
to  Miss  Marjory. 

MARJOLAINE.  (As  bold  as  you  please)  I  always 
take  a  little  refreshment  at  this  hour. 

BROOKE.  How  singularly  unobservant  I  am!  I 
have  never  noticed  it.  Wait  one  moment.  I'll  come 
and  help  you. 

(JACK  expresses  his  determination  to  kill  BROOKE.) 


POMANDER  WALK,  43 

MARJOLAINE.  (Hastily)  No,  thank  you.  I  am 
sure  your  wife  wants  you.  (Viperishly)  She  sees 
so  little  of  you.  (She  hurries  into  the  summer- 
house,  motioning  JACK  to  keep  still) 

BROOKE.  (Leaning  out  of  the  window,  and  try- 
ing to  see  into  the  summer-house)  Curious.  Very 
curious. 

MARJOLAINE.  (In  a  tragic  whisper)  Did  you 
hear  him  ? 

JACK.  (Similarly)  If  he  comes  here,  I'll  punch 
his  head. 

MARJOLAINE.    Be  quiet ! 

(They  both  stand  listening.) 

BROOKE.  (Speaking  off)  No,  my  dear,  of  course 
I  didn't  mean  to  go! — Do  you  think  her  an  ugly 
little  thing? — Matter  of  taste. — Oh,  come!  Not 
jealous! — Hold  your  hand?  (Viciously)  Cer- 
tainly, if  you  wish  it.  (As  he  knocks  out  his  pipe 
and  closes  the  window)  Damn ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Hearing  the  window  close) 
Thank  goodness.  (To  JACK)  Now  you  see  what 
you've  done! 

JACK.  Ton  my  honour,  I've  done  nothing.  Just 
waited  hours ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Arranging  the  wine,  etc.,  on  the 
bench)  Hours ! 

JACK.  It  seemed  hours,  Miss  (With  emphasis) 
Lucy  Pryor! 

MARJOLAINE.  Lucy  Pryor?  Oh,  you  got  that 
out  of  the  book !  That  was  Mamaris  name  before 
she  married.  My  name's  Lachesnais. 

JACK.     (Not  understanding)     Beg  pardon ? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Very  distinctly)  La-ches-nais. 
Marjolaine  Lachesnais. 

JACK.  Are  you  French?  (He  moves  tray  to  his 
right) 

MARJOLAINE.    My  father  was.     (She  has  filled 


44  POMANDER  WALK. 

a  tumbler  with  claret,  which  she  offers  him)  Never 
mind  about  that.  Make  haste. 

JACK.  (Holding  the  tumbler)  Marjolaine — 
that  means  Marjoram,  doesn't  it?  (Rises  to  drink) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Interested)  Do  you  know 
French? 

JACK.  (Inadvisedly  taking  a  gulp  of  claret,  which 
nearly  kills  him)  Brrr! — I  beg  pardon! — O  Lord! 
— know  French? — Very  little. — Marjoram — Sweet 
Marjoram — how  appropriate ! 

MARJOLAINE.  You  are  not  drinking.  It  is 
Maman's  claret. 

JACK.  Does  she — does  she  take  this  for  her 
health? 

MARJOLAINE.    Yes.    You  said  you  were  thirsty. 

JACK.  It's  a  wonderful  wine.  Quenches  your 
thirst  at  once. 

MARJOLAINE.    Take  some  cake. 

JACK.  (Breaks  a  piece  off)  I  say!  You  must 
eat,  too,  or  I  shall  fee!  greedy.  (He  breaks  his  piece 
in  two  and  gives  half  to  her.  They  sit  munching 
like  children,  with  their  feet  dangling^.  JACK,  with 
his  mouth  full)  I  shall  call  you  Marjory. 

MARJOLAINE.     (Similarly)     They  all  do. 

JACK.     (Jealous)     Do  they?    Who? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Carelessly)  Oh — the  neighbours. 
(Indicating  the  Walk  with  the  cake) 

JACK.  Impudence.  (He  recovers)  I  say !  Isn't 
this  delightful ! 

MARJOLAINE.  It's  very  strange.  Do  you  know, 
you  are  the  first  young  man  I've  ever  spoken  to  in 
all  my  life  ? 

JACK.     No!— That's  first-rate! 

MARJOLAINE.     (Astonished)     Why? 

JACK.    Oh — I  don't  know.    I  hate  young  men. 

MARJOLAINE.    But  you  are  young ! 

JACK.  (Rather  hurt)  Me? — No! — I'm  twenty- 
three. 


POMANDER  WALK.  45 

MARJOLAINE.  I'm  much  younger.  Only  seven- 
teen. Here,  everybody  is — Oh ! — so  old ! 

JACK.     Poor  little  girl! 

MARJOLAINE.     (Astonished)    Why  ? 

JACK.    Must  be  so  lonely. 

MARJOLAINE.  (She  has  got  rid  of  the  cake  by 
this  time)  Oh,  no !  One  cannot  feel  lonely  where 
there's  a  river.  (Dreamily)  Twice  every  day  it 
brings  news:  down  from  the  meadows,  where  the 
flowers  are,  and  the  cattle,  standing  knee-deep  in  its 
margin,  and  the — demoiselles — how  do  you  say? — 
dragonflies — and  the  willows  dipping  their  branches 
in  it;  and  then  it  comes  back  from  the  great  town, 
and  sings  of  the  ships  and  the  crowded  bridges,  and 
the  King  and  Queen  taking  their  pleasure  in  great, 
golden  barges.  And  it  even  sings  of  the  sea,  so  far 
away! 

JACK.     (Eagerly)    Do  you  love  the  sea? 

MARJOLAINE.  What  do  I  know  of  it?  I  have 
only  crossed  from  Dunkerque.  (Enthusiastically) 
But  that  was  lovely !  It  was  very  rough,  and  I  stood 
against  the  mast,  and  my  hair  blew  all  about,  and  I 
shouted  for  joy ! — Oh !  I  should  love  to  be  a  pirate ! 

JACK.  (Catching  her  mood)  Fine!  Tell  you 
what!  We'll  charter  a  ship,  and  sweep  the  seas, 
and  bang  the  enemy. 

MARJOLAINE.  We ! — Why,  you're  going  away  in 
a  minute,  and  I  shall  never  see  you  again. 

JACK.  (Suddenly  brought  to  earth)  Marjory — • 
do  you  mean  that  ? 

MARJOLAINE.    Why  should  you  come  again  ? 

JACK.  (Quietly)  Think  a  moment.  Let  us 
both  think.  We  are  very  young,  and  I  know  I'm 
hasty.  Let  us  sit  quite  still,  and  think  hard,  whether 
we'd  like  to  meet  again.  Let  us  sit  and  look  at  each 
other,  and  not  speak.  (They  do  so.  Presently  her 
head  sinks)  Well  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Shyly)  I  do  not  see  why  you 
should  not  come  again. 


^6  POMANDER  WALK. 

JACK.  (Earnesly)  I  see  why  I  should!  I  must! 
But  it  shall  be  differently. 

M ARJOLAINE.    Differently ? 

JACK.  I  mustn't  come  on  the  sly.  I'll  get  an 
introduction. 

MARJOLAINE.  But  nobody  knows  you !  Nobody 
in  all  Pomander  Walk. 

JACK.  (Jumping  up)  Is  this  Pomander  Walk? 
(MARJOLAINE  nods)  Why,  that's  what  I've  been 
looking  for  all  the  afternoon!  That's  where  my 
friend  lives :  the  Admiral. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Rising)  Not  Sir  Peter  Antro- 
bus? 

JACK.    Yes !    Do  you  know  him  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  Why,  he's  the  King  of  the  Walk! 
He  lives  at  Number  One.  If  you're  quite  quiet, 
you  can  hear  him  snoring. 

JACK.  Why,  there  we  are,  then !  I'm  introduced ! 
I'm  on  a  proper  footing!  The  whole  thing's  ship- 
shape. O  Marjory,  what  a  relief ! 

MARJOLAINE.    But  I  don't  understand 

JACK.  Sir  Peter's  my  father's  oldest  friend.  I 
served  under  him  as  a  middy  on  the  Termagant. 
I'm  very  fond  of  him.  I'll  come  and  see  him  to- 
morrow. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Clapping  her  hands)  And  then 
he  can  introduce  you  to  Maman. 

JACK.  Don't  you  see  ?  It's  grand !  I'll  come  and 
see  him  often ;  every  day ;  twice  a  day.  If  he's 
out,  I  can  sit  under  the  elm  and  wait  for  him — with 
you.  Oh !  Aren't  you  glad  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Demurely)  I  am  very  glad  you 
have  found  your  old  friend. 

JACK.    What's  to-day? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Without  thinking)  Quintidi. 
Fifth  Prairial.  Year  thirteen 

JACK.    What  are  you  talking  about? 

MARJOLAINE.  Oh,  I  forgot  I  was  in  England! 
Saturday. 


POMANDER  WALK.  47 

JACK.  (Crestfallen)  Then  to-morrow's  Sunday. 
Hang !  Well,  I'll  come  on  Monday.  Shall  you  be 
here? 

MARJOLAINE.     I  am  always  here. 

JACK.  Be  under  the  elm.  (Insidiously)  Shall 
you  tell  your  mother  about — to-day  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  (After  a  slight  hesitation)  On 
Monday,  when  you've  been  introduced. 

JACK.  That's  it — I'll  be  off  now.  (Taking  both 
her  hands  in  his)  Good-bye.  Oh,  but  it's  good  to 
be  alive !  It's  good  to  be  young !  The  river  is  good, 
that  brought  me  here !  The  sun  is  good,  that  made 
me  thirsty ! 

MARJOLAINE.    And  the  claret  was  good? 

JACK.    The  claret?    Nectar! 

MARJOLAINE.    Finish  it  then. 

JACK.  Oh,  no,  thank  you!  (Sees  her  look  of 
surprise)  Oh,  yes.  (Drinks  it  off  with  silent 
heroism)  Good-bye,  little  Marjory:  till  Monday! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Wistfully)  You  think  you  will 
come? 

JACK.    Think ! 

(Muffin-bell  heard  off.) 

MARJOLAINE.  Slip  to  your  boat  quickly !  (She 
gives  a  cry  of  alarm.  For  the  MUFFIN-MAN  has 
come  round  the  corner  with  his  tray  on  his  head, 
ringing  his  bell.  As  if  by  magic  the  whole  Walk 
comes  to  life.  Heads  are  at  all  the  windows.  JIM 
comes  out  of  No.  i,  with  SIR  PETER  behind  him. 
MRS.  POSKETT  appears  at  her  door;  RUTH  at  hers; 
JANE  comes  out  of  No.  3,  with  the  baby  in  her  arms; 
and  BROOKE-HOSKYN  opens  the  upstair  window. 
Even  DOCTOR  STERNROYD  shuffles  out,  plate  in  hand. 
All  buy  muffins) 

JACK.    Dash  it!    What's  that? 

MARJOLAINE.     Keep  still!     It's  the  muffin-man! 

JACK.     I'm  off! 


48  POMANDER  WALK. 

MARJOLAINE.  Wait!  (She  peeps  through  the 
bushes.  With  horror)  Jack ! 

JACK.  (Delighted  at  being  called  by  his  name) 
Ah !  (  Then  anxiously  )  What  ? 

MARJOLAINE.    The  whole  Walk's  awake!    Look! 

JACK.  (With  his  head  close  to  hers)  I  can't 
see.  Your  hair's  in  the  way.  Don't  move!  By 
Jove !  There's  old  Antrobus  ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (In  distress)  All  of  them!  All 
of  them! 

JACK.  They're  all  buying  muffins !  Greedy  pigs ! 
They  won't  see  me ! 

MARJOLAINE.     Yes,  they  will.     Let  me  go  first. 
I'll   set   them   talking;   then   you   can    slip   away. 
(Suddenly  she  gives  a  scream)    Oh!    Oh! 
(MADAME  and  NANETTE  come  round  the  corner. 
BROOKE-HOSKYN  comes  out  of  No.  3.) 

JACK.    What? 

MARJOLINE.  Maman  and  Nanette!  They  must 
not  come  here !  I  can't  explain  you  before  the  whole 
Walk!  Is  my  hair  straight?  (Going) 

JACK.    Lovely !    Monday  ? 

MARJOLAINE.    I'm  frightened! 

JACK.     (Insisting)     Monday? 

MARJOLAINE.  Yes!  Yes!  (She  dashes  out  of 
the  summer-housef  almost  into  BROOKE-HOSKYN'S 
arms) 

BROOKE.  A\  Miss  Marjory!  I'll  fetch  the 
things  for  you. 

MARJOLAINE.     (In  agony)     No,  no! 

MADAME.     (Calling)     Marjolaine! 

MAFJOLAINE.  (Throwing  up  her  hands  in  des- 
pair) Me  voila,  Maman  cherie!  (She  runs  up  to 
her  mother,  and  becomes  feverishly  active  in  keep- 
ing the  inhabitants  of  the  Walk  together.  BROOKE- 
HOSKYN  comes  solemnly  up  to  the  summer-house,. 
andsees  JACK,  who  is  peering  through  the  hedge) 

BROOKE.     (Slapping  him  on  the  back)     So — so! 

JACK.      (Turns  suddenly)     What  the  devil — ? 


POMANDER  WALK.  49 

(With  amazement)  Hoskyn!  By  all  that's  amaz- 
ing !  Old  Hoskyn ! 

BROOKE.  (  With  the  utmost  surprise  and  discom- 
fort) You,  sir!  You! 

JACK.  Hoskyn!  What  the  devil  are  you  doing 
here? 

BROOKE.  (Like  a  well-trained  servant)  Beg 
pardon,  sir.  (Tries  to  go) 

JACK.  (Stopping  him)  No,  no,  Hoskyn;  you 
don't  get  off  so  easily.  What  are  you  doing  here? 

BROOKE.     (Doggedly)     I'm  living  here,  sir. 

JACK.  The  doose  you  are!  Well,  you're  in  the 
nick  of*  time.  Be  a  good  fellow  and  fetch  my  hat 
out  of  the  boat,  without  letting  all  those  people  see 
you. 

BROOKE.  (Firmly,  but  respectfully)  I'm  very 
sorry,  Master  Jack ;  1  can't  do  that. 

JACK.    Why  not? 

BROOKE.  I'm  looked  up  to  here,  sir.  I  should  lose 
prestige. 

JACK.    I  say,  Hoskyn,  what's  your  little  game  ? 

BROOKE.     (Fiercely)    What  is  yours,  sir? 

JACK.     What  the  devil  do  you  mean  ? 

BROOKE.  (Pointing  to  the  wine  and  cake)  I 
mean — this  ? 

JACK.    What  of  it  ?    What  do  you  insinuate  ? 

BROOKE.  It  ain't  right,  sir.  I  won't  help  you. 
I'll  be  damned  if  I  do ! 

JACK.  Do  you  mean  I'm  doing  something  under- 
hand? 

BROOKE.    Well — ain't  you,  sir? 

JACK.     I'll  devilish  soon  show  you! 

BROOKE.  (Trying  to  stop  him;  terrified)  Don't 
betray  me,  sir !  Don't  sir ! 

JACK.     (Thrusting  him  aside)     Out  of  my  way! 

BROOKE.  Good  Lord!  He'll  tell  the  whole  Walk ! 
(He  stands  and  watches.  Meanwhile  most  people 
have  bought  their  muffins  and  are  retiring.  RUTH 
detains  MADAME.  The  MUFFIN-MAN  has  got  as  far 


50  POMANDER  WALK. 

as  No.  3  where  DOCTOR  STERNROYD  is  choosing  his 
muffins  with  particular  care.  BARBARA  sees  JACK 
approaching) 

BARBARA.    A  stranger ! 

RUTH.  (Calls  to  the  ADMIRAL,  who  is  just  going 
into  his  house)  Sir  Peter!  (She  points  to  the 
intruder) 

SIR  PETER.  (Very  important)  Now,  sir — May 
I  ask — ?  (I'e 'recognises  JACK)  G  bblessmysoul! 
What  a  coincidence!  (Shaking  hands  violently) 
I'm  delighted  t  j  see  you,  my  lad !  (MADAME  comes 
slowly  down)  De-lighted.  (To  MADAME)  Madame 
Lachesnais!  Let  me  make  you  acquainted!  My 
gallant  young  friend,  the  Honourable  Jack  Sayle, 
son  of  my  old  friend,  Lord 

(JiM  appears  in  upper  window.) 
MADAME.  .  (With  a  cry)    Marjolaine ! 

(^!RS.  POSKETT  goes  to  MADAME.  MARJCLAINE 
runs  to  her  mother.  MADAME  sinks  into 
MARJOLAINE'S  and  MRS.  POSKETT'S  arms. 
Stupor.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.    Salts!     Quick! 

(BARBARA  runs  into  house  for  a  glass  of  water. 
The  women  crowd  round  MADAME.) 

SIR  PETER.     (Hurriedly)     Get  away,  Jack! 

JACK.     (Nonplussed)     But ! 

SIR  PETER.  Away  with  you !  Discretion !  They'll 
have  to  unhook  her! 

CURTAIN. 

(Picture.  MADAME  is  placed  on  seat  c  ,  the  women 
round  her.  BARBARA  comes  with  glass  of  water 
which  she  hands  to  MARJOLAINE  is  kneel- 
ing by  her  mother.  The  ADMIRAL,  with  his 
back  to  the  group,  is  waving,  in  the  direction  of 
the  river,  to  JACK,  who  has  disappeared.) 


POMANDER  WALK.  51 


ACT  II. 
LIGHTING  ACT  II. 

All  whites  bonders  and  foots  full  up 

R.  2  Amber  spots 

R.  White  olivettes 

L.  None 

Back  i  White  olivette 

CUES. 

Page  81.    Jack  I  am  the  one  girl  in  the  world  you 

can  never  marry. 

(Begin    to    blind    spots    and    olivettes 

slowly,  one  after  the  other.) 
Page  83.     Do  you  know  any  bishops? 

(Spots,  etc.,  are  blinded  now) 
Page  85.    We  want  to  get  married  and  you've  got 

to  get  us  a  licence. 

(Shower  over  now  and  all  lights  come  on 

gradually.) 

PROPERTIES  FOR  ACT  II. 

OFF  STAGE  R. 

Drowned  cat  in  net  and  three  fishes 

Rug  hanging  on  railings  of  No.  5 

Stick  to  beat  rug  by  railings 

Cat  on  stage  almost  hidden  from  the  audience  by 

the  gazebo. 


£2  POMANDER  WALK. 

ACT  II. 
(Saturday  morning,  June  1st,  1805.) 

SCENE  :— It  is  about  midday;  a  showery  and  breezy 
morning.  The  shadows  shift  as  the  clouds  are 
swept  along.  The  EYESORE  is  fishing  as  usual. 
BROOKE-HOSKYN,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  is  brush- 
ing his  hair  in  his  upstairs  room.  The  window 
is  open.  NANETTE,  as  curtain  rises,  is  beating 
a  rug  which  is  hanging  on  railings  of  No  5. 
JANE  comes  out  hurriedly  and  remonstrates, 
and  then  JIM  rushes  out,  also  scolding  her. 

BROOKE.  Jane,  Jane.  (JiM,  JANE  and  NANETTB 
immediately  scuttle  off  into  their  respective  houses. 
BROOKE  speaks  into  the  room)  But,  my  own  Selina, 
what  was  I  to  dor  Be  reasonable.  I  only  wrote 
and  told  his  lordship  th  bo;'  was  carrying  on  a 
clandestine  love  affair. — I  did  not  even  sign  the 
letter. — None  of  my  business  ?  Now,  Selina !  If  I 
hadn't  wrote,  he'd  have  come  again,  and  all  would 
have  been  disclosed.  We  shoul  1  hav?  been  obleeged 
to  leave  the  Walk !— Drat  the  W*lk  ?—O  fie !  That 
is  not  how  my  ring-dove  customarily  ccos. — Soft 
words  butter  no  parsnips! — O  Selina!  Does  my 
Selina  think  she's  in  her  kitchen?  No  I  am  not  a 
brute. — Yes,  I  know  I  have  made  Miss  Marjory 
very  unhappy,  but  we  must  make  people  unhappy, 
if  we're  to  be  happy  ourselves.  I'm  sorry  for  her. 
Very  sorry.  She's  a  sweet  creature.  (Noise  of 
broken  crockery)  There  you  go  again !  You  scold 
me  for  making  her  unhappy,  ^.nd  you  scold  me  for 
being  sorry.  There's  no  pleasing  you!  (MAR- 
JOLAINE  has  come  out  of  No.  5.  She  is  pale  and 


POMANDER  WALK.  53 

miserable.  BROOKE-HOSKYN  sees  her)  Ah,  Miss 
Marjory?  (Speaking  off)  I  must  speak  to  her; 
it's  only  polite.  Don't  snivel.  (To  MARJOLAINE) 
You  are  looking  a  little  pale. 

MARJOLAINE.  (With  a  toss)  I  never  felt  better 
in  my  life. 

BROOKE.  But  more  like  the  lily  than  the  rose. 
(Off)  No;  I  am  not  talking  nonsense! 

MARJOLAINE.  How  is  Mrs.  Brooke-Hoskyn  this 
morning  ? 

BROOKE.  In  the  highest  spirits.  Her  gaiety  is 
infectious.  (Oj^)  Don't  snivel:  she'll  hear  you! 
(In  despair)  O  Lord!  (To  MARJOLAINE)  Ex- 
cuse me;  Selina  wants  to  tell  me  a  joke — High 
spirits  you  know — high  spirits.  (Off;  impatiently) 
You  really  are! — (Slams  the  window  and  disap- 
pears) 

(MARJOLAINE  looks  desolately  up  and  down  the 
river.  Almost  makes  up  her  mind  to  speak  to 
the  EYESORE,  but  he  scratches  his  back  at  that 
moment,  and  her  pride  revolts.  She  comes  half 
way  across  the  lawn,  towards  the  elm  R.  c. 
SIR  PETER  appears  at  his  upstair  window,  hang- 
ing out  the  thrush.) 

SIR  PETER.    Missie,  ahoy ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Turning)  Oh,  Sir  Peter!  You 
made  me  jump! 

SIR  PETER.    Sent  a  shot  across  your  bows — what  ? 

MARJOLAINE.    How's  the  thrush? 

SIR  PETER.  Peaky — peaky  and  nervous.  That 
confounded  cat  next  door's  been  watching  him. 
Where  is  he  now  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Pointing  to  the  shrub  near  the 
EYESORE)  Quite  safe.  There. 

SIR  PETER.     (Leaning  out)    Where? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Crossing  to  bush)  Oh,  I  can't 
shout  it!  (Points  again) 


54  POMANDER  WALK. 

SIR  PETER.    Oh,  there? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Nodding)  'M.  Are  you  very 
busy?  Could  you  spare  time  for  a  little  chat? 

SIR  PETER.  With  you?  Hours.  (Disappears. 
MARJOLAINE  comes  to  the  elm.  SIR  PETER  comes 
out.  Looks  under  the  shrub.  Shakes  his  fist  at  it. 
Comes  to  MARJOLAINE)  He's  sitting  under  the 
bush,  watching  the  Eyesore  like  a  tiger.  Shows 
cats  have  no  sense.  Tears  to  think  the  Eyesore's 
going  to  catch  a  fish! — (Coming  down)  Ha! 
Never  caught  a  fish  in  his  born  days !  Now,  Missie, 
what  can  I  do  for  you? 

MARJOLAINE.    Talk  to  me. 

SIR  PETER.  (Flattered)  Ah  1— Tell  ye  what! 
If  we  had  a  fiddler  here,  we  might  practise  the 
hornpipe !  (  Takes  her  hands  and  does  a  few  steps; 
she  is  quiet  and  despondent) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Anxiously)  No!  No! — Not  to- 
day! 

SIR  PETER.  (Looking  at  her  with  surprise)  Oh  ? 
— In  the  doldrums? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Impulsively)  Sir  Peter,  \vas 
you  ever  broken-hearted? 

SIR  PETER.  Lord  bless  your  pretty  eyes,  yes; 
every  time  I  left  port ! 

MARJOLAINE.  Oh,  but  did  the  world  seem  like 
an  empty  husk,  and  did  you  want  to  sit  down  and 
cry  your  eyes  out? 

SIR  PETER.  Well,  ye  see,  I  could  only  have  crfed 
one  eye  out,  anyhow. 

MARJOLAINE.  And  what  did  you  do?  How  did 
you  cure  yourelf  ? 

SIR  PETER.    With  a  jorum  of  rum  to  be  sure ! 

MARJOLAINE.    Qh !    I  can't  do  that ! 

SIR  PETER.    What?    Are  you  broken-hearted? 

MARJOLAINE.  I?  Certainly  not!  Only,  some- 
body— somebody's  broken  their  word.  That's  all. 

SIR  PETER.  Look  at  that,  now!  But  I'll  cure 
you!  I'll  tell  vou  a  story.  (Sits)  Something 


POMANDER  WALK.  55 

funny  ?  How  I  lost  my  eye,  what  ?  Ye  see,  it  was 
on  board  the  Termagant 

M ARJOLAINE.    When  you  was  with  Nelson  ? 

SIR  PETER.  Ay;  at  Copenhagen,  year  Eighteen- 
one. 

MARJOLAINE.  I  suppose  yvu  had  many  officers 
under  you  ? 

SIR  PETER.  Hundreds !  Well,  when  I  say  hun- 
dreds— Ha!  I  was  somebody  then! — but  this  in- 
fernal government 

MARJOLAINE.  (Soothingly)  Dear  Sir  Peter! — 
and  I  suppose  some  of^  them  were  quite  young 
officers ? 

SIR  PETER.  Middies?  Lord  love  you,  I  took 
no  notice  of  them!  Passel  o'  powder-monkeys. 
Not  but  what  Jack  Sayle 

MARJOLAINE.     (Indifferently)    Jack  what? 

SIR  PETER.  You  know.  Young  feller  I  presented 
to  your  mother  a  week  ago.  Time  she  swooned. 

MARJOLAINE.    O  yes ! 

SIR  PETER.  Gobblessmysoul ! — I  was  quite 
startled. 

MARJOLAINE.    Was  he  on  your  ship? 

SIR  PETER.  Ay,  was  he ;  and  a  fine  young  feller, 
too!  Of  course,  you  was  much  too  agitated  to 
notice  him  last  Saturday.  Gad !  I  wonder  he  hasn't 
been  to  see  me  all  this  week.  Promised  he  would. 

MARJOLAINE.     (Eagerly)    Did  he? 

SIR  PETER.  He  did.  There,  he's  only  on  leave, 
and  he  has  heavy  social  duties.  Son  of  Lord  Otf  ord, 
y'know, 

MARJOLAINE.     (Amazed)     Lord  Otf  ord ? 

SIR  PETER.  (Rising)  Ay,  ay — my  old  friend. 
Otf ord's  selfish  about  him.  Ye  see,  the  boy'll  come 
into  a  great  estate ;  and  the  old  man's  anxious  about 
his  marriage. 

MARJOLAINE.     (Breathlessly)     Whose? 

SIR  PETER.  Jack's,  to  be  sure.  Lord!  They 
marry  'em  now  before  they're  out  o'  their  swaddling 


56  POMANDER  WALK. 

clothes.  Ot  ford's  in  a  hurry  to  secure  the  succes- 
sion— (This  not  being  a  subject  to  discuss  with  a 
young  girl,  he  pulls  himself  up)  H'm — Honourable 
Caroline  Thring. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Repeats)  Caroline  Thring. 
(Under  her  breath) 

SIR  PETER.  Daughter  and  sole  heiress  of  Lord 
Wendover.  Theie's  a  match.  Goes  about  doing 
good — like  the  party  iast  Saturday — but  the  two 
estates'll  cover  the  county. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Who  can't  stand  much  more  of 
it  rises  and  goes  L.)  I  chink — I  ;hink  I  saw 
Sempronius  stirring. 

SIR  PETER.  (Going  up  a  few  steps)  Damn  that 
cat!  (Exit  EYESORE)  Beg  pardon! — I'll—!  No, 
he's  quiet.  (Comes  b^ck)  Gobblessmysoul !  I've 
been  boring  you  r>bout  a  jOung  feller  you  don't 
know.  (MAI^OLAINE  turns  her  face  from  him. 
Taking  her  Z  •  the  sh~  Iders  and  turning  her.  With 
surprise)  DC  yvu? — (.Vith  suspicion)  Do  you? 
Here,  I  say,  young  woman !  Look  rii  in  the  eye— 
this  eye. 

MARJOLAINE.    I — I — I  have  seen  him  once. 

SIR  PETER.  Have  you,  begad! — So  that's  what 
^e  was  up  to,  eh?  (Indignantly)  But  I'll  teach 
him! 

MARJOLAINE.  Sir  Peter !  If  you  breathe  it,  I'll 
never  speak  to  you  again  I 

SIR  PETER.  D'ye  chink  I'll  have  him  coming 
here ! 

MARJOLAINE.  But  he's  not !  Don't  you  see  he's 
not  ?  Swear  you  won't  oreathe  it  to  a  soul !  Swear ! 
Swear  i 

SIR  PETER.  Damme  I  must  tnink  that  over! 
And  as  for  you,  I'll  talk  to  you  like  a  Dutch  uncle— 

(MRS.  POSKETT  opens  her  window.) 

MARJOLAINE.  Sir  Peter!  Sempronius  is  going. 
to  jump! 


POMANDER  WALK.  57 

SIR  PETER.     (Hurrying  up)    What! 

(MRS.    POSKETT    thrusts    her    head    OK&    of    her. 
window.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.    Good  morning,  Sir  Peter. 
(MARJOLAINE  sits  R.  c.) 

SIR  PETER.  (Gruffly)  'Morning,  ma'am.  Your 
cat 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Sh! — Dear  Sempronius! — Don't 
disturb  him !  He's  so  happy ! 

SIR  PETER.    But ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  I'm  sure  it's  going  to  rain. 
(Enter  MADAME  from  No.  5)  He  always  sits  there 
^when  he  feels  rain  coming ;  because  the  fish  rise,  and 
he  loves  watching  them. 

SIR  PETER.  Confounded  nonsense ! — (He  is  com- 
ing  back  to  the  elm,  but  sees  MADAME  come  out  of 
No.  5  and  cross  to  MARJOLAINE)  O,  hang! — (He 

\goes  into  No.  i) 

. 

(Meanwhile  MARJOLAINE,  seated  under  the  tree, 
has  bent  her  head  lower  and  lower  over  her 
book.  MADAME  nods  pleasantly  to  SIR  PETER 
and  MRS.  POSKETT,  SIR  PETER  and  MRS. 
POSKETT  disappear.) 

MADAME.  (Crosses  towards  river,  turns,  and 
'sees  MARJOLAINE,  comes  quietly  up  to  her,  very 
gently)  Marjolaine!  (Gets  L.  of  her) 

MARJOLAINE.  (With  a  sudden  gasping  sob,  hides 
her  face  in  her  mother's  dress)  O  Maman! 

MADAME.  (Sitting  beside  her  L.,  and  folding  her 
in  her  arms)  Cherie—my  darling!  What  is  the 
matter  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Rises,  struggling  with  her  emo- 
tion) Nothing,  Mother.  I  shall  be  better  directly. 


58  POMANDER  WALK. 

MADAME.  Cry,  Marjolaine— Do  you  think  I  have 
not  been  watching  you  all  this  week?  (Sits  c.) 
Cry,  my  darling,  and  tell  me. 

(MARJOLAINE  sits  R.  c.) 

MARJOLAINE.  There  is  nothing  to  tell,  Mother. 
I  was  waiting  to  tell  you  a  great  secret !  But  the 
secret  no  longer  exists.  (Buries  her  face  again) 

MADAME.  Ah,  chtrie,  you  see?  The  secret 
exists ;  it  is  breaking  your  heart.  It  will  hurt  you 
and  hurt  you.  Till  you  tell  me. 

MARJOLAINE.     (Hushed)     I  can't,  Mother. 

MADAME.     Shall  I  help  you,  Marjolaine? 

MARJOLAINE.  I  cannot  begin  alone :  I  don't  know 
how. 

MADAME.  (Very  gently)  Let  us  say :  you  were 
Sitting  here ;  and  that  stranger — that  young  man 

MARJOLAINE.  (Rising  and  moving  a  little  R. 
suddenly  let  loose)  He  stood  over  there  in  the  sun  ; 
and  he  looked  at  me;  and  I  looked  at  him  and 
(awed)  Mother!  What  happened  to  me?  I  felt 
as  if  he  and  I  had  always  known  each  other,  and 
as  if  we  were  alone  in  the  world.  No ;  as  if  he  were 
alone  in  the  world,  and  I  were  a  part  of  him.  And 
we  spoke.  Nothings ;  things  that  did  not  matter ; 
silly  things;  about  his  being  thirsty,  and  what  I 
could  give  him.  But  it  was  only  our  voices  speaking. 
I  know  it  was  only  my  voice.  It  was  not  I.  I  was 
thinking  of  sunshine  and  music  and  flowers.  (Point- 
ing to  the  arbour)  And  we  went  in  there,  and 
the  foolish  talk  went  on ;  and  all  the  time  my  heart 
was  singing!  He  told  me  his  name,  and  my  heart 
took  it  and  wove  music  all  around  it  and  sang  it, 
and  sang  it!  And  (Hushed)  Mother! — I  seemed 
to  step  out  of  childhood  suddenly,  into — into  what, 
Mother  ?  What  was  it  ? 

MADAME.    Alas ! 

MARJOLAINE.    When  he  went,  I  felt  as  if  he  had 


POMANDER  WALK.  59 

taken  rhe  with  him ;  my  heart  and  my  mind.  He 
said  he  was  coming  again;  but  he  never  came,  and 
every  day  I  have  wandered  about,  looking  for  what 
he  had  taken:  looking  for  my  life.  He  will  never 
come  again !  He  will  never  bring  back  what  he  has 
carried  away!  O  Mother!  What  is  it?  (Kneels 
by  her  mother  R.,  and  quietly  cries) 

MADAME.  My  darling!  Is  it  so  serious  as  that? 
God  help  us,  poor,  blind  things!  While  my  child 
was  going  through  the  fire,  I  was  matching  silks 
for  my  embroidery ! 

MARJOLAINE.  But  it  would  have  been  the  same 
if  you  had  been  here! 

MADAME.  I  suppose  so.  There  is  no  barrier 
against  it!  (Puts  her  arms  round  MARJOLAINE) 
Not  even  a  mother's  arms. 

MARJOLAINE.    What  is  it  then,  Mother? 

MADAME.  (After  thinking  i  moment)  No,  I 
will  not  tell  you.  If  i  told  you,  it  would  grow 
stronger ;  and  it  must  not.  It  shall  not.  You  must 
win  yourself  back — as  I  did.  Oh,  but  sooner,  and 
more  completely. 

MARJOLAINE.     (Astonished)     As  you  did — ? 

MADAME.  My  dearest  dear,  the  young  never 
realise  they  are  not  beginning  the  world.  Your 
story  is  mine. 

MARJOLAINE.    O  Mother! 

MADAME.  Yes :  but  mine  was  longer.  We  lived 
in  our  dream  a  whole  year,  so  my  love — (MAR- 
JOLAINE starts  at  the  word)  had  time  to  grow.  Its 
roots  were  twined  round  my  heart;  and  when  ha 
left  me,  and  tore  the  roots  out  of  me,  I  thought  he 
had  torn  my  heart  out  with  them !  (Rises  and  goes 

L.) 

MARJOLAINE.    Like  me ! 

MADAME.  (Looking  earnestly  at  MARJOLAINE) 
Would  you  like  to  know  his  name? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Hushed;  very  tenderly)  Yes — 
what  was  it?  (Rises) 


60  POMANDER  WALK. 

MADAME.     Jack — Sayle. 

(Slight  pause.) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Recoiling  in  amazement) 
Mother ! — I  don't  understand ! 

MADAME.    The  father  of  the  boy  you  have  seen ! 

MARJOLAINE.    How  wonderful! 

MADAME.  Much  more  wonderful  things  happen 
every  day.  It  is  much  more  wonderful  that  I  can 
tell  you  this  now :  that  I  ever  grew  out  of  my  love. 
For  I  loved  him — !  Ah,  how  deeply ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Putting  her  hand  on  her  own 
heart)  Mother,  dear 

MADAME.    What,  my  dearie ? 

MARJOLAINE.     Is  this — is  what  I  feel — lovef 

MADAME.  (Sadly  crosses  a  little  to  R.)  Ah!  I 
have  betrayed  myself! — I  am  afraid  it  was  going 
to  be — love. 

MARJOLAINE.  Going  to  be — !  But  it  is! — or 
else— this  ache?  What  is  it? 

MADAME.  (Earnestly,  sits  R.  of  MARJOLAINE) 
Crush  it  now!  Fiercely!  Ruthlessly!  And  it  will 
be  nothing.  You  have  only  r,een  him  once 

MARJOLAINE,    Does  that  make  any  difference? 

MADAME.  (Avoiding  a  direct  answer)  You 
must  be  very  brave:  very  determined;  and  put  the 
thought  of  him  away. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Looking  straight  at  her  mother) 
Mother — (Slight  pause)— did  you  love  my  father 
as  much  as  you  had  loved — Jack? 

MADAME.  (Avoiding  MARJOLAINE'S  eyes)  Yes. 
Differently.  He  was  a  brave,  true  man.  I  was  very 
proud  of  your  father;  very  happy  and  contented. 
And  I  am  very  happy  and  contented  now ;  or  I  shall 
be,  when  I  see  you  have  won  the  victory. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Full  of  her  own  thoughts)  And 
what  became  of — Jack? 

MADAME.     (Rises  and  moves  a  little  to  R.  with  a. 


POMANDER  WALK.  61 

slight  tinge  of  bitterness)  Oh! — he  married  some 
great  lady. 

MARJOLAINE.  (With  a  catch  of  her  breath,  to 
herself)  The  Hon.  Caroline  Thring! 

MADAME.  And  then  I  went  to  France,  and 
(Obviously  not  speaking  the  truth)  I  forgot  him. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Looking  keenly  at  her  mother) 
But — Mother — if  you  had  forgotten  him,  why  did 
you  swoon  when  you  heard  his  name? 

MADAME.  (With  a  sad  smile)  Ah! — My  little 
girl  is  become  a  woman!  (Lifts  MARJOLAINE'S 
face  and  looks  into  it)  The  innocence  of  the  dove, 
and  the  guile  of  the  serpent! — Come  now,  cherie, 
you  promise  to  fight? 

(People  begin  to  appear  at  the  doors  and  windows 
of  their  houses.) 

MARJOLAINE.    Yes. 
MADAME.    You  promise  to  conquer? 
MARJOLAINE.     (Rising)     I  promise  to  try. 
MADAME.    You  see  there  can  be  nothing  between 
Lord  Otford's  son  and  my  daughter? 
MARJOLAINE.      (Very  doubtfully)     Yes. 

(RUTH  enters.) 

MADAME.  Try  to  lighten  someone  else's  sorrow ; 
then  you  will  forget  your  own,  and  the  roses  will 
bloom  in  your  cheeks  again. 

(RuTH  comes  briskly  out  of  No.  4  with  her  needle- 
work.  She  is  evidently  in  a  bad  temper.  She 
puts  up  her  hand  to  see  whether  it  is  raining.) 

MADAME.  Ah — !  Coming  into  the  fresh  air, 
Miss  Ruth  ? 

RUTH.  Of  course  it's  going  to  rain!  (Sits 
under  tree  L.) 

MADAME.     Oh — not  yet! 


62  POMANDER  WALK. 

RUTH.     Do  you  mind  if  I  sew  here?    It's  so 
lonesome    when    Barbara's    locked    up    with    her 
precious  bird. 
»    MADAME.    That  is  so  touching. 

(RUTH  snorts.) 
RUTH.    (Calling)    Marjory! 

(MADAME  kisses  MARJOLAINE  and  goes  up  R.  and 
round  into  No.  5-) 

RUTH.  (Calling  again)  Marjory!  (Then 
searchingly)  You  haven't  had  a  singing  lesson  this 
week. 

MARJOLAINE.  (R.,  confused)  I  haven't  been 
quite  myself. 

RUTH.    So  I  saw.    Anything  the  matter? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Hastily)  Oh,  nothing.  Noth- 
ing to  speak  of. 

RUTH.    H'm.    Barbara  was  quite  upset. 

MARJOLAINE.    How  sweet  of  her ! 

RUTH.  Oh!  Not  so  much  about  you.  But  she 
looks  forward  to  sitting  with  you  and  Mr.  Pringle 
when  you  are  singing. 

MARJOLAINE.    Is  she  so  fond  of  music? 

RUTH.  '  Bless  your  dear  heart,  no ! — How  could 
she  sit  .with  you  if  she  were?  Doesn't  know  one 
tune  from  another!  No;  it  isn't  that. 

MARJOLAINE.    What  is  it,  then? 

RUTH.  (Blowing  whatever  it  is,  away)  Pfft ! — 
(Suddenly)  O !  grant  me  patience ! 

MARJOLAINE.     (Amazed)     Ruth! 

RUTH.  Well!  It  seems  to  me  the  whole  house 
is  bewitched — that  ever  I  should  say  such  a  thing! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Shocked)  Oh!  I  thought  you 
were  so  happy ! 

RUTH.    I'm  happy  enough.     Because  I'm  not  a 


POMANDER  WALK.  63 

fool.  But  what  with  that  feller  upstairs,  and 
Barbara  down,  a  body  has  no  peace  of  her  life. 

MARJOLAINE.     (Interested)    Tell  me! 

RUTH.  Ha 'n't  you  noticed  anything?  No.  I 
s'pose  y^r're  too  young.  Don't  know  what  sheeps- 
eyes  a  e,  when  you  see  'em. 

MARJOLAINE.     Sheepseyes ? 

RUTF  'TL^'t  for  me  to  say  anything;  but  with 
him  .mining  abo  the  h«  se  ->igh*rg  like — like  I 
don't  know  whaf ;  and  her  mopLig  like  a  hen  with 
the  pip,  it's  enough,  r.s  my  dear  mother  used  to  say, 
to  give  a  body  the  fantoddles. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Who  has  been  gazing  towards 
gazebo,  and  remembering,  eagerly)  Are  they — are 
they  fond  of  each  other? 

RUTH.    7  c'jn't  know! — Yes,  of  course  they  ire! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Simply)  Then  why  don't  they 
say  so? 

RUTH.    That's  what  I  want  to  know  ? 

MARJOLAINE.     You  should  speak  to  Mr.  Basil. 

RUTH.  Me! — Bless  your  dear  neart,  ne'd  up 
and  run  away.  He's  <*ot  it  into  nis  silly  aead  le 
ain't  good  enough.  He's  as  sny  as — i  aon'*  xnow 
what. 

MARJOLAINE.  Perhaps  if  Barbara  showed  him 
she  likes  him — ?  Why  don't  you  speak  ;o  her? 
Kindly,  sympathetically. 

RUTH.  So  I  did,  just  now.  Told  ner  she  was 
an  idiot.  She  burst  out  crying,  and  went  and  shut 
herself  up  with  that  bird. 

MARJOLAINE.  Ah! — the  old  love!  (Looking 
toward  gazebo) 

RUTH.  Old  frying-pan!  Oh,  that  bird! — 
Marjory,  there  are  times  when  I'd  ^ive  anybody  a 
four-pr  y  D  to  wring  that  bird's  n^ck! 

MARJOLAINE.  (With  a  sudden  idea.  Excitedly) 
Ruth! 

RUTH.  Well,  I  don't  care.  I  mean  it.  If  it 
wasn't  for  that  bird 


04  POMANDER  WALK. 

MARJOLAINE.  I  wasn't  thinking  of  the  bird!  — 
Yes!  I  was  thinking  of  the  bird,  but  I  wasnt 
!*  hiking  what  /  u  thought  I  was  thinking!  —  Oh  • 
what  nonsense  you  mJce  me  talki  (Crossing  to 


(RUTH  rises  and  moves  R.) 
RUTH.    Whatever's  got  into  the  child's  head! 

(SiR  PETER  c:mes  out  j/  No.  i.    Looks  at  his  sweet 
peas,  and  expresses  fury.) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Trying  to  pull  RUTH  towards 
No  4)  Jome  !  Quick  !  Come,  and  tell  Barbara  I 
want  ner  I 

RUTH.    What  do  you  want  her  for? 

MARJOLAINE.  I  mustn't  tell  you  yet.  She  may 
refuse. 

(Enter  EYESORE,  who  resumes  his  fishing.) 

RUTH.  Bless  and  save  us!  Now  your  cheeks 
are  glowing  again  ! 

MA  JOLAINE.  Maman  said  they  would!  —  Come 
along! 

RUTH.    W~.it  —  wait!    My  mouth's  full  of  pins! 

(As  thtj  go  upf  SIR  PETER  meets  them.) 

SIR  PETER.    Going  in,  just  as  I'm  coming  out? 

MARJOL\INE.  (Laughing)  Like  ;"-e  little  peo- 
ple in  the  cottage:  yon  c~^e  out  *c~  rain;  and  I 
go  in  for  sunshine,  df.es  to  d^or) 

RUTH.    II  -  -  w  &€  s    _~t  peas  nming  on? 

SIR  PETER.  (S  leu:)  Kow  the  doose  can  they 
come  on,  when  that  everlasting  cat  roots  ''em  up 
every  night? 


POMANDER  WALK.  65 

(RuxH  and  MARJOLAINE  go  into  No.  4.) 

SIR  PETER.  (Shaking  his  fist  at  the  bush) 
Ohhh! 

(LORD  OXFORD  turns  the  corner.) 

OTFORD.    Shaking  your  fist  at  me,  Peter? 

SIR  PETER.    Otford? 

OTFORD.  (Coming  down  and  shaking  hands) 
How  are  you  ?  Have  you  a  moment  to  spare  ? 

SIR  PETER.  All  day,  thanks  to  this  confounded 
government.  (At  the  elm)  What  is  it? 

OTFORD.     I'm  in  great  trouble. 

SIR  PETER.  Damme!  You're  in  trouble  once  a 
week ! — Come  into  the  gazebo.  ( Cross  R. ) 

OTFORD.  The  Gazebo? — (Angrily)  Ha!  very 
appropriate. 

(They  sit  in  the  summer-house.) 

SIR  PETER.    Eh?    Why?    (He  sits  R.) 

OTFORD.     (Producing  a  letter)     Read  this. 

SIR  PETER.    Can't.    Haven't  my  spy-glass  on  me. 

OTFORD.  Well,  listen.  (Reads)  "  My  lord— It 
is  my  painful  duty  to  inform  your  lordship  that 
your  son,  the  Honourable  John  Sayle,  is  carrying  on 
a  clandestine  love-affair  with  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
jolaine  Lachesnais  of  Pomander  Walk " 

SIR  PETER.    Belay,  there ! 

OTFORD.  Wait  a  bit — (Goes  on  reading)  "Yes- 
terday they  were  together  for  nearly  an  hour  in  the 
gazebo " 

SIR  PETER.  (Angrily)  When  did  you  get  that, 
and  who  wrote  it? 

OTFORD.  It's  signed  "  Your  true  friend  and  well- 
wisher  " — and  I  had  it  on  Sunday. 

SIR  PETER.     Do  you  mean  to  say  that  damned, 


66  POMANDER  WALK. 

anonymous,  Sabbath-breaking  rag  came  from 
mander  Walk  ? 

OTFORD.    I  presume  so. 

SIR  PETER.  (Rises  and  crosses  to  L.)  Who  sent 
it?  Show  me  the  white-livered  scoundrel,  and  by 
Jehoshaphat,  I'll  wring  his  neck! — Is  it  a  man's 
writing,  or  a  woman's? 

OXFORD.    It's  vague.    Might  be  anybody's. 

SIR  PETER.  Can't  be  Sternroyd — Brooke-Hoskyn 
— Pringle — We're  none  of  us  anonymous  slanderers. 
(Suddenly  in  a  hoarse  whisper)  Was  it  the  Eye- 
sore  ? 

OTFORD.    The  Eyesore ? 

SIR  PETER.  That  scarescrow,  fishing. — But  what 
of  it,  Jack?  You're  not  worried  by  that  rubbish? 
Why  it's  a  pack  of  lies!  (Aside)  Lord  forgive 
me!  (OTFORD  tries  to  speak)  Don't  interrupt! — 
I'm  here  all  the  time.  Nothing  happens  in  Po- 
mander Walk  that  I  don't  know.  (OTFORD  moves) 
Don't  interrupt!  I  was  here  when  Jack  came  last 
Saturday.  He  went  back  in  his  boat  before  you 
Could  say  "  Jack  Robinson,"  because  Madame 
swooned.  (Aside)  Lord  forgive  me ! 

OTFORD.  (Hotly)  Now  perhaps  you'll  let  me 
say  it's  all  true ! 

SIR  PETER.  (Raising  his  voice)  Do  you  take 
this  blackguard's  word  rather  than  mine  ? 

OTFORD.  You  confounded  old  porcupine,  Jack's 
owned  up  to  the  whole  thing ! 

SIR  PETER.  (Shouting)  What!— Don't  shout 
like  that!— d'ye  want  the  whole  Walk  to  hear? 
Sit  down.  Tell  me  again,  quietly. 

(They  sit  in  the  ganebo.      OTFORD  L.  SIR  PETER  R.) 

OTFORD.  I  taxed  him  with  it,  and  he  owned  up. 
He  came  here  last  Saturday :  met  the  damned  little 
French  gel 

SIR  PETER.     (Flaring  up)    Jack! 


POMANDER  WALK.  67 

OXFORD.  I'll  withdraw  damned.  Sat  an  hour  in 
this  infernal  what-d'ye-call-it,  and  thinks  he's  in  love 
with  her.  (SiR  PETER  tries  to  speak)  Don't  in- 
terrupt! You  know  the  Sayles  when  their  blood's 
up.  You  can  imagine  the  scene  we  had.  He's  as 
pig-headed  and  obstinate  as 

SIR  PETER.    As  his  father ! 

OTFORD.  Don't  interrupt! — He's  thrown  Caro- 
line Thring  over — won't  hear  of  her.  The  utmost 
I  could  get  out  of  him  was  that  he'd  wait  a  week  to 
make  sure  of  what  he  calls  his  mind.  Mind! 
Puppy!  All  the  week  he's  gone  about  like  a  bear 
with  a  sore  head.  Had  the  impudence  to  refuse  to 
speak  to  me.  This  morning  he  had  the  impudence 
to  speak.  And  what  d'ye  think  he  said? 

SIR  PETER.    Serves  ye  right,  whatever  it  was. 

OTFORD.  He  said,  "  The  week's  up,  and  I'm 
going  to  Pomander  Walk." 

SIR  PETER.  (Delighted)  He  did?  Ah,  ha! 
Good  lad! 

OTFORD.  What? — you're  mad.  (Rises  and 
moves  L.)  Think  of  what's  at  stake!  Ninety- 
thousand  acres!  For  the  daughter  of  a  French- 
woman from  God  knows  where!  Who  was  the 
girl's  father?  Or,  rather,  who  wasn't? 

SIR  PETER.     (Rising  furious)    Jack ! 

OTFORD.  I  withdraw!  But  think  of  it!  An 
Otford,  taking  his  wife  from  (Indicating  the  Walk 
in  general)  these — these — Almhouses ! 

SIR  PETER.  (Livid  and  speechless)  Almhouses ! 
— Pomander  Walk ! — Almhouses  ! 

OTFORD.  There,  there! — I  withdraw  Alms- 
houses. 

SIR  PETER.  Withdraw  more,  sir !  How  dare  you 
come  here,  abusing  the  sweetest,  brightest,  most 
winsome 

OTFORD.  I  believe  you're  in  love  with  her  your- 
self. 

SIR  PETER.    And.  damme,  why  not?     (Crosses 


68  POMANDER  WALK. 

to  L.)  Take  care  how  you  talk  about  innocent 
ladies  you've  never  set  eyes  on! 

OXFORD.  That's  it.  That's  why  I'm  here.  You 
are  to  present  me  to  this  Madame  whatever  her 
confounded  name  is. 

SIR  PETER.  In  your  present  temper? — I'll  walk 
the  plank  first.  (Pointing)  There's  her  house — • 
white  paint — Go  and  pay  your  respects.  Your  res- 
pects, Jack !  Damme,  you'll  find  you  have  to. 

OXFORD.  I  can't  go  to  the  house  alone,  and  you 
know  it. 

SIR  PEXER.    Then  stay  away.     (Goes  up) 

OXFORD.  I'll  stay  here.  (Sits  in  gazebo)  And 
if  Jack  shows  his  nose ! 

SIR  PEXER.  (Putting  his  head  round  the  side  of 
gazebo)  I  shall  be  watching  sir,  and  if  you  dare 
create  a  disturbance  in  Pomander  Walk,  I'll — 
damme !  I'll  set  the  Eyesore  at  you !  (He  stumps 
off  in  a  rage  towards  his  house) 

OXFORD.  Ha!  (Sits  down  and  folds  his  arms 
in  silent  fury) 

(Just  as  SIR  PEXER  is  near  his  door,  JACK  enters  R. 
u.  E.  At  the  same  moment  MADAME  comes 
out  of  No.  5.  She  faces  towards  the  elm,  and 
calls.) 

MADAME.    Marjolaine !    Marjolaine ! 

OXFORD.  (In  the  summer-house)  Aha!  The 
mother !  (He  sits  up,  attentive) 

SIR  PEXER.  (Seeing  JACK  ;  in  a  hoarse  whisper) 
Gobblessmysoul !  Jack!  (Seises  him)  Getaway! 

MADAME.     (Facing  her  house,  calls)     Nanette! 

JACK.    (To  SIR  PEXER)    Why? 

NANEXXE.  (Throwing  open  the  upstair  window 
of  No.  5)  Quoi,  Madame? 

SIR  PEXER.  (To  JACK,  pointing  frantically  to  the 
summer-house)  Your  father! — There! 


POMANDER  WALK.  69 

MADAME.  (To  NANETTE)  Oe  est-donc  Made- 
moiselle? 

NANETTE.    Je  ne  sais  pas,  Madame. 

(MADAME  looks  into  her  ground-floor  window.) 

JACK.     (To  SIR  PETER)     I  don't  care:  I  won't 

go. 

SIR  PETER.  (Pointing  to  his  own  house)  Come 
inside,  then. 

JACK.  No,  better  idea!  (Whispers  to  SIR 
PETER,  indicating  the  EYESORE) 

MADAME.  (To  NANETTE)  Vite,  alles  voir  si 
son  chapeau  est  dans  sa  chambre. 

(NANETTE  disappears.     MADAME  stands  waiting, 
looking  up  at  the  house.) 

SIR  PETER.  (  With  horror;  to  JACK)  I  wash 
my  hands  of  it! 

(He  dashes  into  his  house.  JACK  goes  to  the  EYE- 
SORE and  speaks  to  him.  The  EYESORE  drops 
his  tackle  with  alacrity,  and  both  vanish  round 
the  corner.) 

NANETTE.  (Reappearing  above,  with  a  hat) 
Oui,  Madame,  voila  le  chapeau  de  Mademoiselle. 
Mademoiselle  doit  etre  au  pavilion. 

MADAME.  Non;  je  viens  de  I'apeller.  (With 
sudden  suspicion)  Serait-il  possible ? 

(She  comes  down  quickly  to  the  summer-house. 
NANETTE  closes  the  window  and  disappears.) 

MADAME.  (Discovers  LORD  OTFORD.  Starts 
slightly;  but  is  quite  self-possessed)  Oh! 

OTFORD.      (Condescendingly)      I   am   the   tres- 


70  POMANDER  WALK. 

passer.  (Rises.  MADAME  moves  to  go)  May  I 
detain  you  one  moment? 

MADAME.    ( Very  stiffly)    I  am  at  a  loss 

OXFORD.  I  heard  you  calling  your  daughter.  I 
presume  you  are  Madame — (He  consults  the  let- 
ter)— ah — Lachesnais.  (MADAME  slightly  inclines 
her  head,  but  makes  no  reply)  I  am  Lord  Otford 
— (He  expects  this  to  have  an  effect,  but  MADAME 
only  brushes  it  aside  with  a  movement  of  her  hand, 
as  a  matter  of  no  importance.  This  nonplusses  him 
slightly.  Pointing  to  the  seat  under  the  elm)  Ah 
— pray  be  seated. 

MADAME.  (Declining  to  sit)  What  you  have 
to  say  can  be  of  so  little  importance 

OXFORD.  (Flushing)  I  beg  your  pardon !  What 
I  have  to  say  is  of  the  utmost  consequence ! 

MADAME.  I  shall  be  surprised.  And  I  am  wait- 
ing. 

OXFORD.    You  make  it  somewhat  difficult,  ma'am. 

MADAME.  Then  why  give  yourself  the  trouble? 
(Moves) 

OXFORD.  (Hastily)  Pray  wait! — The  fact  is — 
my  foolish  son 

MADAME.  (Holding  up  her  hand)  Ah! — I  can 
spare  you  any  further  discomfort.  Your  son 
forced  his  acquaintance  on  my  child  in  my  absence 
a  week  ago.  Be  assured  we, are  willing  to  overlook 
his  lack  of  manners.  The  circumstance  need  not 
be  further  alluded  to. 

OXFORD.    But  it  must!    I  must  explain! 

MADAME.  No  explanation  or  apology  is  re- 
quired, since  under  no  circumstances  shall  we  allow 
the  acquaintance  to  continue. 

OXFORD.  But  my  son  has  pledged  his  word  to 
come  again,  and 

MADAME.  Make  yourself  easy  on  that  score. 
He  hr  s  broken  !  is  word. 

OXFC...O.    That  was  my  doing !    I  persuaded  him 


POMANDER  WALK.  71 

to  wait  a  week.  I  regret  to  say  he  means  to  come 
to-day. 

MADAME.  Well,  Pomander  Walk  is  public,  and 
we  cannot  prevent  him. 

OXFORD.    But  he'll  see  you  daughter ! 

MADAME.  I  think  not.  Unless  he  breaks  into 
the  house. 

OTFORD.  Upon  my  soul,  I  believe  he'll  go  that 
length !  That  is  where  I  ask  for  your  cooperation. 

MADAME.  Pardon  me.  Not  cooperation. 
(Haughtily)  But  I  shall  defend  my  own. 

OTFORD.  (Amazed)  Defend? — What  do  you 
mean? 

MADAME.  (With  dignity)  I  mean,  that  no 
member  of  your  family  is  likely  to  cross  my  thresh- 
old. 

OTFORD.  (Still  more  amazed)  You  speak  as 
though  you  nursed  a  grudge  against  my  family! 

MADAME.  (With  a  tinge  of  scorn)  Oh,  no 
grudge  whatever!  But  I  remember 

OTFORD.     Remember  what ? 

MADAME.  (Facing  him)  Am  I  so  changed — 
Jack  Sayle ? 

OTFORD.  Indeed,  ma'am — (Starting)  Good 
God! 

MADAME.    Are  you  still  puzzled? 

OTFORD.    Lucy ! 

MADAME.  Lucy  Pryor.  (She  bows  and  moves 
L.  as  if  to  go  in) 

OTFORD.  (Deeply  moved)  No! — No! — Stop! 
This  alters  the  case  entirely! 

MADAME.     (With  raised  eyebrows)    How? 

OTFORD.  (At  a  loss)  I — I  don't  know — I  am 
stunned! — After  all  these  years! 

MADAME.  (Lightly)  Why,  what  does  it  amount 
to?  After  all  these  years,  Lord  Otford  meets 
Madame  Lachesnais.  These  are  not  the  Jack  Sayle 
and  Lucy  Pryor  who  loved  years  ago.  He  does  not 
meet  a  broken-hearted'  woman,  pining  for  her  lost 


72  POMANDER  WALK. 

girlhood,  but  one  who  has  been  a  happy  wife,  and 
a  happy  Another — and  a  mother  who  will  defend  her 
daughter's  happiness.  (With  sligh  mockery)  So 
there  is  no  cause  for  such  a  tragic  countenance,  my 
lord! 

OTFORD.  (Nonplussed,  angry  with  himself) 
Madam  * — I  am  well  rebuked.  I  wish  you  a  very 
good  day !  ( With  a  profound  bow  he  goes  up. 
JACK  returns  in  the  EYESORE'S  coat  and  hat  with 
the  collar  up,  and  the  hat  crushed  down.  LORD 
OXFORD  nearly  runs  up  against  him.  To  JACK  re- 
lieving his  feelings)  Damn  you,  sir!  (Exit) 

(The  EYESORE  (JACK)  calmly  picks  up  his  rod. 
He  finds  a  fish  on  the  hook.  MADAME  leans  a 
moment  against  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  sum- 
mer-house. MRS.  POSKETT  opens  her  upper 
window.  SIR  PETER  appears  at  his.  MAR- 
JOLAINE  and  BARBARA  come  out  of  No.  4  ) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Calling)  Sempronius! — Puss! 
Puss!  Puss! 

(THE  EYESORE  unhooks  the  fish,  and  throws  it  on 
the  grass  beside  him.  MADAME  crosses  slowly 
in  front  of  tree  to  L.) 

SIR  PETER.  It's  no  use  calling  him,  ma'am ;  he's 
got  his  eye  on  the  fish. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Indicating  the  EYESORE)  You 
don't  say  the  Eyesore's  caught  one ! 

SIR  PETER.  (Chuckling)  Ay,  ay!  He's  won- 
derfully patient  and  persistent,  ma'am! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Astonishing  what  patience  and 
persistence'll  do,  Admiral.  (Closes  her  window) 

SIR  PETER.  What's  she  mean?  (He  leans  out 
and  whistles  towards  the  EYESORE,  but  sees 

*  Not  -  Madame." 


POMANDER  WALK.  73 

MADAME  coming)  Gobbiessmysoul !  Here's 
Madame!  (Closes  window  and  disappears  hur- 
riedly) 

(Meanwhile  MARJOLAINE  and  BARBARA  have  come 
out  of  No  4.) 

MADAME.  I  was  a  little  alarmed  about  you,  Mar- 
jolaine.  Did  you  not  hear  me  call? 

MARJOLAINE.    No,  Maman  cherie. 

MADAME.  (To  BARBARA)  Don't  let  her  stay 
out  if  it  rains.  (She  goes  into  No.  5) 

BARBARA.  The  Eyesore  looks  more  revolting 
than  ever.  (Goes  R.  of  tree) 

(At  this  moment  the  EYESORE  catches  another  fish, 
which  he  lays  with  the  first.) 

MARJOLAINE.  (With  a  little  shudder)  Dread- 
ful !— Oh !  he's  caught  a  fish ! 

BARBARA.  Wonderful!  (Whispered)  What  is 
he  doing,  now  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  Don't  look!  (In  a  tragic  whis- 
per) He's  putting  on  a  worm!  (They  come 
down)  It  was  impossible  to  talk  in  Ruth's  pres- 
ence, with  Doctor  Johnson  screaming  in  the  next 
room. 

(JiM,  JANE  and  NANETTE  are  seen  through  the 
upper  windows  moving  about  the  rooms. 
MADAME  is  seen  at  lower  window.  BARBARA 
and  MARJOLAINE  walk  to  a.  and  back  to  R.  c. 
with  their  arms  round  each  other's  waists.) 

BARBARA.  (Rapidly)  Dearest,  shall  I  confess 
that  sometimes  that  bird — But  no!  It  were  dis- 
loyal ! — Only,  if  Charles  had  given  me  a  lock  of  his 
hair,  perhaps  it  would  not  have  made  so  much 


74  POMANDER  WALK. 

noise.  Yet  that  is  a  selfish  wish,  for  he  had  been 
scalped. 

MARJOLAINE.  How  dreadful! — Barbara,  were 
you  very  much  in  love? 

BARBARA.  Dearest,  is  that  quite  a  delicate  ques- 
tion? 

MARJOLAINE.  Well — I  mean,  are  you  still  a* 
much  in  love  as  ever  ? 

BARBARA.  Dearest! — do  you  think  love  can 
change  ?  And  do  I  not  hear  the  sound  of  my  darl- 
ing's voice  every  time  Doctor  Johnson  yells?  Oh! 
if  only  that  innocent  fowl  had  been  present  when 
Charles  used  different  language! 

MARJOLAINE.     (Innocently)     But — did  he? 

BARBARA.     (Pensively)     I  sometimes  wonder. 

MARJOLAINE.     Perhaps  the  loss  of  his  hair 

BARBARA.  Yes,  but  he  concealed  the  honourable 
scar  under  a  lovely  wig.  And  (Looking  at  the 
house)  O,  dearest! — Can  any  physical  infirmity 
affect  true  love? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Watching  her  closely)  I — sup- 
pose— not. 

BARBARA.  (Enthusiastically)  I  am  quite  sure  it 
cannot. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Taking  both  her  hands.  Search- 
ingly)  Barbara — why  are  you  quite  sure? 

BARBARA.  (Confused)  Dearest! — How  search- 
ing you  are ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (More  pressing)  Tell  me !  Why 
are  you  quite  sure? 

BARBARA.  (Evading  the  question)  Did  your 
mother  match  those  lovely  silks? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Meaningly)  Mr.  Basil  plays 
the  violen  beautifully. 

BARBARA.  (In  a  flutter)  Oh,  dearest !  Oh,  you 
wicked  dearest!  You  have  guessed  my  secret. 
(Kisses  MARJOLAINE) 

MARJOLAINE.    I  was  sure  before  I  guessed ! 

BARBARA.     Promise  you  will  never  tell  a  living 


POMANDER  WALK.  75 

soul ! — Look !  The  Eyesore  has  caught  another 
fish !  Poor  darling ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Severely)  You  are  not  in  love 
with  the  Eyesore  as  well  ? 

BARBARA.  I  mean  the  fish !  To  be  drawn  out  of 
the  watery  element ! 

MARJOLAINE.    That  comes  of  liking  worms. 

BARBARA.  (Very  sentimentally)  That's  what  I 
shall  do.  (Sits  R.  c.)  I  shall  let  the  worm  i'  the 
bud  feed  on  my  damaged  cheek 

(MARJOLAINE  sits  L.    c.     JACK   EYESORE   moves 
down  a  little.) 

MARJOLAINE.  Barbara,  suppose  Mr.  Basil's 
cheek  is  being  fed  on,  too ! 

BARBARA.    Dearest,  that  is  impossible. 

MARJOLAINE.    Suppose  I  know  it  is? 

BARBARA.  You  wonderful  child! — (Sharply) 
Then  why  doesn't  he  say  so? 

MARJOLAINE.     Suppose  he's  too  shy? 

BARBARA.  Oh,  aren't  men  silly? — (Tragically) 
Then  we  must  look  and  long. 

MARJOLAINE.    But  suppose  a  third  person  spoke ! 

(JACK  EYESORE  moves  down  a  little  further.) 

BARBARA.     You ! 

MARJOLAINE.  No.  (Sees  the  EYESORE  still  ap- 
proaching) Hush! — the  Eyesore — (Rises  and 

rings  BARBARA  down  L.) 

BARBARA.  You  don't  mean  he's  to  be  Cupid's 
messenger ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Laughing)  No,  no! — Listen! — 
and  try  not  to  scream! — Doctor  Johnson  talks, 
doesn't  he? 

BARBARA.     (Bewildered)     Doctor  John ? 

MARJOLAINE.    And  he  learns  easily  ? 

BARBARA.    Learns  what ? 


76  POMANDER  WALK. 

MARJOLAINE.     Let  Basil  hear  it  from  him. 

BARBARA.    Hear  what? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Laughing)  Oh,  you  little  goose! 
Teach  the  parrot  to  say  "  Barbara  loves  you !  " 

BARBARA.     (With  a  scream)     Marjory! 

MARJOLAINE.     (Silencing  her)     Sh! 

BARBARA.  (Suddenly  grave)  Charles's  only 
gift — turned  to  such  uses ! — (Shocked)  O  Marjory ! 
(Moves  away  R.) 

MARJOLAINE.  Wouldn't  Charles  be  pleased  to 
know  his  gift  had  been  the  means  of  making  you 
happy  ? 

BARBARA.  From  what  I  can  remember  of  him,  I 
should  say,  decidedly  not! 

(JACK  EYESORE  moves  still  further  down.) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Alluding  to  the  EYESORE)  The 
Eyesore's  quite  close ! 

BARBARA.  Oh!  (Very  excited)  I  can't  bother 
about  him.  Oh,  it's  such'  a  splendid  idea !  Oh,  my 
goodness,  what  shall  I  do !  (Runs  L.) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Alluding  to  the  EYESORE)  111 
flpeak  to  him ! — I'll  save  him  from  Sir  Peter's  wrath ! 

BARBARA.    No !    No ! 

MARJOLAINE.     Stand  by  me!     Hold  my  hand! 

(BARBARA  runs  to  MARJOLAINE  again  and  then  back 
to  house.) 

BARBARA.  I  daren't — I'm  frightened! — And  I 
want  to  begin  teaching  the  bird!  (She  runs  into 
No.  4) 

MARJOLAINE.  Treacherous  Barbara!  (She 
summons  up  all  her  courage,  and  approaches  the 
EYESORE.  At  last  she  speaks,  very  timidly)  S. — 

Sir !  (The  EYESORE  throws  his  wrap-rascal 

and  hat  into  the  gazebo,  and  stands  revealed  as 
JACK.  With  an  involuntary  cry  of  joy)  Jack  I 


POMANDER  WALK.  77 

JACK.    Quick!    Into  the  arbour! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Remembering  her  indignation) 
I  will  not! 

JACK.  (Seising  her,  and  dragging  her  off)  Yes, 
you  will !  (He  has  dragged  her  into  the  summer- 
house.  Sits  left  of  her  and  at  once  says)  Marjory, 
I  love  you ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Sinking  on  his  breast,  over- 
whelmed) Oh!  Oh! 

JACK.  (Folding  her  close  to  him,  and  speaking 
passionately)  I  love  you,  love  you,  little  Marjory. 
I  loved  you  the  first  moment  I  saw  you  under  the 
elm. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Breaking  away  from  him)  How 
dare  you  1  Oh,  how  dare  you !  I  didn't  know  what 
I  was  doing!  You  swept  me  off  my  feet!  Go 
away!  You  broke  your  word!  You  never  came! 

JACK.    I  come  now! 

MARJOLAINE.  In  a  horrible  disguise!  And  too 
late!  (Sobbing)  I  have  promised  not  to  love 
you! 

JACK.    Whom  have  you  promised  ? 

MARJOLAINE.    My  dear,  dear  Mother ! 

JACK.    Don't  you  love  me? 

MARJOLAINE.    If  I  did,  I've  promised  not  to. 

JACK.    What's  the  use  of  that,  if  you  do? 

MARJOLAINE.    /  keep  my  word. 

JACK.     So  do  I. 

MARJOLAINE.    Oh ! 

JACK.  Differently.  I  told  my  father;  and  I 
promised  I'd  stay  away  a  week  and  make  sure.  I've 
made  sure,  and  I've  come.  Isn't  that  keeping  my 
word? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Hesitating)  It  seems  so,  when 
you  tell  it — but 

JACK.  Do  they  want  you  to  marry  somebody 
else? 

MARJOLAINE.    No. 


78  POMANDER  WALK. 

JACK.  They  want  me  to.  (With  conscious 
virtue)  But  I  refused. 

MARJOLAINE.  That's  it!  You're  a  great  man; 
by-and-by  you'll  live  in  marble  halls ;  and  you  never 
said  a  word  about  it ! 

JACK.  Hang  it  all !  I  told  you  my  name !  I  can't 
go  about  shouting  I'm  a  lord's  son ! 

MARJOLAINE.  And  you're  going  to  marry  a  great 
lady!  (Sobbing)  The  Hon — honourable  Caroline 
Thring ! — Oh,  doesn't  it  sound  horrid ! 

JACK.  (Violently)  I'm  not  going  to  marry  her! 
— And  she  doesn't  want  to  marry  me;  and  there's 
only  one  girl  in  the  world  for  me,  and  that's  you — 
you — you. 

(Shower  of  rain  threatened.     Lights  begin  to  go 
down  very  gradually.) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Holding  him  off,  and  speaking 
very  earnestly)  Jack — I*m  the  one  girl  in  the  world 
you  can  never  marry. 

JACK.  (Awed)  You  speak  as  if  you  meant 
it! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Rising)  I  do.  We  are  fated  to 
part. 

JACK.    Why  on  earth ? 

MARJOLAINE.  It  is  a  terrible  secret.  (Sits)  Sit 
close.  Oh,  closer!  Listen.  (Melodramatically) 
Your  father  loved  my  mother,  when  they  were  both 
very  young 

JACK.    No ! 

MARJOLAINE.  'M.  And  he  went  on  loving  her 
for  years  and  years  and  years ;  and  then  he  left  her, 
just  as  you  left  me  last  Saturday;  and  went  and 
married  the  Honourable  Caroline  Thring ! 

JACK.     (Bewildered)     What? 

MARJOLAINE.  Oh,  well — same  thing — some  other 
great  lady. 

JACK.     (Gives  a  low  whistle)    Phew! 


POMANDER  WALK.  79 

MARJOLAINE.  And  Maman's  never  forgotten  it. 
Just  as  I  shouldn't.  And  that's  why  she  fainted 
when  she  heard  your  name. 

JACK.  (Whistles  again)  Phew! — That  accounts 
for  my  father's  temper  just  now ! 

MARJOLAINE.     (Puzzled)    Just  now ? 

JACK.  When  I  landed  he  was  here  with  your 
mother. 

MARJOLAINE.    (Astonished  and  frightened)    Oh! 

JACK.  Sir  Peter  told  me.  It  was  a  close  shave. 
I  had  just  time  to  borrow  that  fellow's  coat.  When 
my  father  came  out  he  was  perfectly  furious.  He 
swore  at  me  horribly. 

MARJOLAINE.  You  see!  Maman  had  just  told 
him  what  she  thinks  about  him,  and  we  must  part 
for  ever.  (Tragically)  It's  what  they  call  a  Blood- 
Feud.  (Rises  and  crosses  to  L,  of  JACK) 

JACK.  (Rising)  Then  we  must  marry,  to  wipe 
it  out !  Marjory,  we  must  fly  \ 

MARJOLAINE.    Fly ? 

JACK.    Fly ! — Run  away  I — Elope  I 

MARJOLAINE.  Leave  Maman — I  (Matter  vj1 
fact)  I  couldn't  do  it ! 

JACK.    You'd  have  to,  if  we  were  married. 

MARJOLAINE.  Afterwards,  perhaps — but  not  be- 
fore. 

JACK.  We'll  be  married  at  once.  Then  it'll  be 
afterwards. 

MARJOLAINE.  No,  no,  no.  It's  no  use.  (Appeal- 
ingly,  but  meaning  the  opposite)  Don't  ask  me, 
will  you?  Besides,  we  can't  be  married  at  once. 
In  your  stupid  England,  the  parson  has  to  ask  the 
congregation  three  times  whether  they  have  any 
objection !  As  if  it  was  their  business ! 

JACK,  Banns! — Hang!  (Thinks)  1  know! 
Licence ! 

MARJOLAINE.  Don't  ask  me,  You  won't  ask  me, 
will  you? — (Eagerly)  What  is  a  licence? 

JACK     You  go  to  a  Bishop,  and  he  gives  you  a 


8o  POMANDER  WALK. 

document,  and  then  you  go  to  the  nearest  Church-— 
and  there  you  are ! 

MARJOLAINE.  I  don't  believe  you're  there  at  all. 
Oh,  it's  no  use !  (Pause,  then  very  tenderly)  Do 
you  know  any  Bishops? 

JACK.     (Crestfallen)     No.    Don't  you? 

'MARJOLAINE.    (Miserably)    Not  one. 

JACK.     It's  discouraging. 

(Both  sit.  DOCTOR  STERNROYD  comes  out  of  his 
house,  laden  with  books.  He  puts  his  hand  out; 
finds  it  is  raining;  opens  his  umbrella;  and  with 
difficulty  gets  through  the  gate.) 

MARJOLAINE.     (Hearing  him)     Sh! 
JACK.     Why? 

MARJOLAINE.     The  Reverend  Doctor  Sternroyd 
— coming  out  of  his«house. 
JACK.     A  parson? 
MARJOLAINE.    Yes. 
JACK.     (Jumping  up)    By  George! 
MARJOLAINE.    What  are  you  going  to  do? 

(JACK  comes  to  the  edge  of  the  summer-house,  and 
calls.) 

JACK.    Doctor  Sternroyd! 

MARJOLAINE.     (Alarmed)     Oh ! 

STERNROYD.  (Startled;  lets  all  his  books  fall) 
Dear  me! — Tut,  tut!  (He  gets  hopelessly  mixed 
up  with  his  umbrella  and  his  books) 

JACK.  (Helping  him)  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Doctor.  (Edges  him  into  the  summer-house) 
Come  in,  it's  going  to  rain.  (JACK  leads  DR. 
STERNROYD  to  seat  in  gazebo:  they  put  books  on  the 
ground  in  front  of  c.  of  seat) 

(Enter  the  EYESORE;  looks  for  his  coat  and  hat, 


POMANDER  WALK 


Act  II— Page 


POMANDER  WALK.  81 

then  expresses  joy  at  the  fish,  and  resumes  fish- 
ing.} 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Opening  her  window)  Sem- 
pronius  !  Sempronius !  Come  in,  you  bad  cat ! 
You'll  get  wet  through !  (She  disappears) 

(MARJOLAINE  takes  DR.  STERNROYD'S  umbrella  and 
shuts  it.) 

JACK.     Sit  down,  Doctor;  here,  between  us. 

STERNROYD.  (Bewildered)  But,  my  dear  young 
friends — !  (Takes  umbrella  from  MARJOLAINE) 

JACK.  You'd  get  wet  and  catch  cold.  (He  takes 
umbrella)  My  name's  Jack  Sayle. 

(DR.  STERNROYD  takes  umbrella  from  JACK.) 

MARJOLAINE.  His  name  is  the  Honourable  John 
Sayle,  and  he  is  the  only  son  of  Lord  Otford. 

STERNROYD.  (Promptly  and  glibly)  Otford: 
Or,  on  a  fess  azure  between  in  chief,  a  sinister  arm 
embowed  and  couped  at  the  shoulder  fesswise 
vested  of  the  second,  holding  in  the  hand  proper  a 
martel  gules,  and  in  base  a  cerf  regardant  passant 
vert,  three  martlets  of  the  first.  Crest :  out  of  a  crest 
coronet  a  blasted  oak 

MARJOLAINE.    Oh ! 

STERNROYD.    Motto :  Sayle  and  Return. 

JACK.  (  Who  has  been  impatiently  trying  to  inter- 
rupt him)  Doctor — !  (The  two  lean  across  the 
utterly  bewildered  DOCTOR  and  talk  volubly  without 
giving  him  a  chance  of  getting  a  word  in.  Their 
speeches  overlap)  When  you've  quite  done,  we 
want  to  get  married,  and  you've  got  to  get  a  licence — 

(Shower  over.     Lights  begin  to  go  gradually  up 
again.) 


82  POMANDER  WALK 

MARJOLAINE.  Because  we're  in  a  dreadful  hurry 
and  Maman  won't  hear  of  it.  (Down  on  one 
knee) 

JACK.  And  my  father  wants  me  to  marry  Caroline 
Thring — which  is  wicked 

MARJOLAINE.  And  of  course  1*11  never  do  it, 
and  it's  no  use  asking  me,  and 

JACK.  We're  going  to  be  married  anyhow,  and 
if  you  don't  help,  we  shall  run  away 

MARJOLAINE.  And  you  wouldn't  like  to  be  the 
cause  of  our  doing  that,  would  you — (She  kneels) 

JACK.    And  we  love  each  other — (He  kneels) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Leaning  forward)  Very,  very, 
dearly! 

(Their  lips  meet,  across  DR.  STERNROYD'S  knees  to 
the  horror  of  the  almost  stupe  fid  antiquary.) 

STERN RO YD.  (Trying  tD  rise)  I  am  deeply 
shocked!  (Rising  between  them)  Profoundly 
surprised!  I  shall  ^ake  r  point  of  informing 
Madame  Lachesnais  and  his  lordship 

(MARJOLAINE  and  JACK  rise.) 

JACK.  Oh,  I  say !  You  can't,  you  know,  because 
we  took  you  into  our  confidence ! 

STERNROYD.  (As  nearly  angry  as  he  can  be) 
I  did  not  ask  for  your  confidence ! 

JACK.    Well — you've  got  it! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Insinuatingly)  And — Doctor 
dear — think  of  when  you  were  young! 

STERNROYD.  (Arrested)  Eh? — Dear  me! — 
How  did  you  know? — (Sits)  If  I  did  run  away 
with  my  blessed  Araminta 

JACK.    Ah ! — there  you  see ! 

STERNROYD.  I  had  every  excuse.  She  was 
deeply  interested  in  prehistoric  remains. 


POMANDER  WALK.  83 

MARJOLAINE.  (To  STERNROYD)  And  I'm  sure 
you  were  very  happy. 

STERNROYD.  (Sadly)  Ah,  my  child,  she  has 
been  <!eacl  thiit;  years !  (Snuffs) 

MARJOLAINE.    Dear  Doctor  Sternroyd! 

STERNROYD.  But  this  is  ^o  hare-brained!  A 
specia  -icencx  !.'  not  so  easily  had.  TTis  Grace  the 
A-chbishop  01  Canterbuiy 

MARJOLAINE.  (Imp/jssed)  O  my  goodness! 
An  Archbishop ! 

STERNRCYD.    Requires  excellent  reasons 

JACK.    I've  told  you!    We  love  each  other! 

STERNROYD.  I  fear  that  would  not  satisfy  his 
Grace. 

MARJOLAINE.    Wicked  old  gentleman! 

JACK.  We'll  find  reasons ! — Here  you  are !  My 
leave's  up  in  a  month :  only  just  time  for  the  honey- 
moon. 

STERNROYD.  H'm.  (Rises,  goes  a  little  L.  then 
turns  to  them)  r  have  an  idea.  The  Archbishop 
is  forming  a  collection  of  antiquities.  I  found  a  rare 
Elizabethan  tobacco  pipe  here  the  other  day.  Per- 
haps if  I  were  offer  t?at  to  his  Grace,  it  might 
oil  the  wheels. — Yes. — It  will  be  a  wrench,  but  I'll 
take  it  to-morrow.  Ah,  no !  To-morrow's  Sunday ! 

JACK.  Dash  it! — What  a  way  Sunday  has  of 
coming  in  the  wrong  part  of  the  week! 

STERNROYD.    Hush !    Monday,  then. 

JACK.    And  we  can  1  >  married  the  same  day? 

STERNROYD.     Ho,  no!     The  day  after,  perhaps. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Ticking  the  days  off  on  her 
fingers)  Saturday,  Sunday,  Monday,  Tuesday — 
oh,  dear! 

JACK.  But  what  am  I  to  do  till  then  ?  I  daren't 
go  home.  My  father's  quite  capable  of  having  me 
kidnapped  and  sent  to  my  ship ! 

MARJOLAINE.     (Distressed)    O  Jack! 

JACK.  (With  decision)  Doctor — you  must  put 
me  up.  (Rises) 


84  POMANDER  WALK. 

STERNROYD.    Put  you ? 

JACK.    Up.    Give  me  a  bed. 

STERNROYD.  And  incur  your  noble  father's  dis- 
pleasure ? 

JACK.  On  the  contrary.  He'd  be  deeply  grateful 
to  you  for  showing  me  hospitality. 

(Lights  full.) 

STERNROYD.     But — Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn ! 

JACK.  He  shan't  see  me — and  if  he  does,  his 
mouth's  shut.  Shut! 

STERNROYD.  You'll  find  me  poor  company,  young 
gentleman. 

JACK.  It's  only  for  two  days.  And  every  even- 
ing (To  MARJOLAINE)  we'll  meet  under  the  elm. 
(DR.  STERNROYD  picks  up  one  of  the  books)  I'll 
whistle — so  (Does  it)  and  you'll  come  out. 

STERNROYD.  Ah,  well!  (Sits  between  them) 
Now  you  must  give  me  full  particulars.  Your 
names;  ages;  professions,  if  any 

MARJOLAINE.    How  horrid! 

STERNROYD.  (Opening  one  of  his  books,  reads 
the  title  with  great  enjoyment)  "  Epicteti  quae 
supersunt  Dissertationes " .  A  pencil.  Now,  Mr. 
Sayle 

(The  three  put  their  heads  together.  The  DOCTOR 
questions  them  and  writes  their  answers  on  /** 
fly-leaf.  The  EYESORE  in  his  corner  has  been 
showing  symptoms  of  increasing  anxiety  and 
discomfort  about  Sempronius.  He  has 
"  shoo'd  "  him  and  shaken  his  fist  at  him  to  no 
purpose.  BROOKE-HOSKYN  comes  out  of  No.  3 
in  gorgeous  array.  As  he  comes  down  the 
steps,  he  is  arrested,  presumably  by  a  voice  from 
the  room  above.  He  stops,  with  an  impatient 
exclamation,  turns,  and  addresses  the  upstair 
window  somewhat  peevishly.) 


POMANDER  WALK.  85 

BROOKE.  Eh?  What ?— Late ?— Yes ;  I  told  you 
I  should  be.  But  I  have  the  key.  What?  Yes;  I 
did ;  I  found  the  key-hole  easily  enough,  but  the  key 
was  twisted — What?  Sober — ?  (Indignant) 
Reely,  Selina !  (Meanwhile  RUTH  PENNY- 
MINT  comes  out  of  No.  4.  MRS.  POSKETT  is  at  her 
open  window.  SIR  PETER  comes  to  his  door.  BASIL 
opens  his  window,  and  plays  the  fiddle.  MADAME 
comes  into  her  garden.  BARBARA  is  at  the  ground 
floor  window  of  No  4.  JIM  comes  out  of  No.  i 
and  trains  the  sweet  peas.  The  EYESORE  grows 
more  and  more  violent  towards  the  cat.  Continuing 
without  interruption)  Dammit,  ma'am,  they'll  hear 
you  howling  all  down  the  Walk. 

RUTH.    Off  to  the  whirl  of  fashion  so  early? 

BROOKE.  (Nervously  edging  away  from  the 
house)  H'm — it  is  a  long  way  to  the  City — My 
friends  the  Goldsmiths'  Company — a  banquet  to 
the  Chinese  Ambassador — my  shay  is  waiting  round 
the  corner. 

RUTH.    I'll  go  and  sit  with  your  poor  wife. 

BROOKE.  How  kind  of  you.  But — ah — not  just 
now.  I  left  the  dear  soul  asleep  and  dreaming  of  the 
angels. 

RUTH.    Oh !    Look  at  the  Eyesore ! 

BROOKE.  Haha ! — Sempronius  is  about  to  snatch 
his  fish,  and  he  cannot  leave  his  line!  Reely  most 
amusing ! 

STERNROYD.  (In  the  summer-house,  closing  his 
book)  There!  I  think  that's  all. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Peeping  out  to  the  right  of  the 
summer-house)  Oh !  Oh ! 

(For  at  this  moment,  the  EYESORE,  losing  patience, 
flings  down  his  rod,  leaps  at  the  cat,  seises  it, 
and  hurls  it,  yelling  horribly,  into  the  river. 
Then,  picking  up  the  fish  and  his  tackle,  he 
bolts.) 


86  POMANDER  WALK. 

MRS.  POSKETT.     Sempronius! — Save  him! 
RUTH.     (To  BROOKE)     Save  him! 
BROOKE.    In  these  clothes! 
MADAME.     (Calls)     Marjolaine! 
MARJOLAINE.      (Running   out   of   the  summer- 
house)     Voila,  Maman! 

(But  in  the  nick  of  time  SIR  PETER,  flinging  off  his 
coat,  hurries  down  the  water-steps.) 

BARBARA.    Oh,  Sir  Peter !    Take  care ! 
BASIL.    He  will  be  drowned ! 

r(SiR  PETER  emerges,  holding  the  drenched  and 
struggling  cat  by  the  scruff  of  his  neck.  He 
brings  it  with  heroic  dignity  to  MRS.  POSKETT, 
who  is  leaning  half  fainting  against  her  ro&» 
ings.) 

SIR  PETER.    Your  cat,  ma'am  I 

(MRS.  POSKETT  takes  the  cat,  and,  to  the  amazement 
,  of  the  Walk,  throws  it  over  the  railings  of  her 
garden;  then,  to  the  Walk's  further  stupefac- 
tion, she  flings  her  arms  round  SIR  PETER'S 
neck,  and  cries:) 

MRS.  POSKETT.    My  hero !    My  preserver !    (She 

to  him) 

SIR  PETER.  Gobblessmysoul ! 

MADAME.  Marjolaine ! 

RUTH.     (Simultaneously)     How  beautiful! 

BROOKE.  She's  got  himi 

BARBARA.  Happy  pair ! 

BASIL.  (Plays     "See,     the 

Conquering        Hero 
Comes") 
Belay  there! 


POMANDER  WALK.  8? 

(Enter  CAROLINE  THRING.) 
JIM.    'Ware  pirate— Here's  the  Dragon » 

(All  the  women  rush  to  the  doors  and  windows  of 
their  houses  and  watch.) 

CAROLINE.  What  horrible  people.  (To  SIR 
PETER)  You  dreadful  old  man!  (Coming  R.  c.) 

SIR  PETER.  Eh!  You,  again! — Don't  speak  to 
me! — I'm  dangerous! 

CAROLINE.  You  don't  know  whom  you  arc 
addressing ! 

SIR  PETER.    I  don't ;  and  I  don't  want  to ! 

CAROLINE.     I  am  Caroline  Thring! 

SIR  PETER.  Caroline!  Gobblessmysoul !  (Col- 
lapses) 

JACK.  (In  the  summer  house)  Caroline!  Oh! 
my  stars !  (Puts  on  the  EYESORE'S  coat  and  hat) 

MARJOLAINE.    Caroline !    (Helps  JACK) 

CAROLINE.  (Walking  round  to  L.  c.  looking  at 
houses)  Where  Is  the  girl  with  the  curls? 

SIP  PETER.    ". — I — I  don't  know ! 

CAROLINE.    In  the  summer  house,  no  doubt. 

JACK.  She's  coming.  Doctor,  lie — lie  till  you're 
black  in  the  face ! 

SIR  PETER.  (c.  stopping  CAROLINE)  You 
mustn't  go  there !  You  can't  go  there !  You  shan't 
go  there ! 

CAROLINE.    Stand  aside — intoxicated  person. 

SIR  PETER.  Intoxicated!  Me!!  (Goes  up  a 
little) 

CAROLINE.  (Seeing  DR.  STERNROYD)  A  clergy- 
man! 

STERNROYD.    Humble  servant,  m'am. 

CAROLINE.     (Indicating  JACK)     But  this ? 

MARJOLAINE.  A  poor  man,  your  ladyship:  I'm 
teaching  him  his  letters,  your  ladyship :  and  this  kind 


88  POMANDER  WALK. 

clergyman  is  going  to  give  him  soup,  your  ladyship. 
Come,  good  man,  lean  on  me. 

CAROLINE.  I'm  glad  mv  first  visit  bore  such  good 
fruit.  (To  JACK)  Give  me  your  other  arm. 

BASIL.  (Who  is  wetfahmv  ff>*»  upstairs  window, 
shouts)  But  the  Eyewor  rnawayl  Who's ? 

SIR  PETER.    Hold  your  tongue. 

(CAROLINE,  MARJOLAINE  and  JACK  cross  to  L.  and 
JACK  goes  into  house.) 

BASIL.  (Shouting  louder)  Well,  but,  Dr.  Stern- 
royd ! 

STERNROYD.     Hold  your  silly  tongue,  sir. 

CAROLINE.  (To  MARJOLAINE)  You're  a  good 
little  girl — here's  a  four-penny  oit  for  you. 

MARJOLAINE.    (Demurely)    Thank  you  my  lady. 

'(CAROLINE  THRING  is  down  L.  she  walks  rapidly 
round  past  each  house;  as  she  does  so  each  door 
is  vigourously  slammed  as  she  passes  it.  Exit 

R,  U.  E.) 

CURTAIN. 

'{When  the  curtain  is  taken  up  all  except  MARJO- 
LAINE and  SIR  PETER  who  are  at  seat  c.,  are  at 
their  doors  and  windows.  JACK  has  taken  off 
the  EYESORE'S  hat  and  thrown  back  the  coat, 
and  is  at  the  lower  window  of  STERNROYD'S 
house  laughing.  All  burst  into  shouts  of 
laughter.) 


POMANDER  WALK.  89 

ACT  III. 
PROPERTIES  FOR  ACT  III. 

Tea  things  on  table  and  chair  (both  from  No.  5) 

(between  tree  and  No.  5) 
Stone  by  Gazebo  for  Eyesore 
Ladder  and  Torch  (off  stage) 
Pie  and  bread 
Parcels 

LIGHTING  ACT  III. 
Red  and  white  foots  and  borders  full  up. 

R.  2  Rose  spots  (later  on  replaced  by  blue — when 
moon  rises)  Arm  at  back  of  panorama  R.  pinks 
up — blues  not  up  yet. 

L.  (Blue  spot  to  come  on  later  when  moon  rises) 
In  top  room  of  No.  5.  Baby  lense  (amber)  to 
come  on  when  2nd  lamp  post  is  lighted  by  lamp 
lighter. 

CUES. 

Page  107.  And  I  shall  call  the  book  "  Pearls  be- 
fore Swine  "  (begin  very  gradually  to 
take  white  out  of  borders) 

Page  in.  Now  I  want  you  to  knock  at  that  door 
(Begin  to  put  blues  into  borders,  and 
very  gradually  take  off  I  rose~  spot  off 
R.  bridge)  Lower  whites  off  foots  a 
little  and  put  blues  in  gradually. 


90  POMANDER  WALK. 

Page  1 1 6.  That  will  tell  the  Walk,  (take  2nd  rose 
spot  off  very  slowly — put  blues  intc  arm 
behind  panorama  and  let  rose  lights 
gradually  die  out). 

Page  118.  Hoskyn  by  all  that's  wonderful.  (All 
reds  are  out — only  white  and  blue  in 
foots). 

Page  122.  As  lamplighter  lights  the  2nd  lamp 
The  baby  lense  is  lighted  top  window 
of  No.  5  focussed  on  Madame  and 
Lord  Otford  by  the  tree. 

Page  129.  Let  me  pass — let  me  pass.  Five  years 
I've  been  a  sailor.  (The  moon  rises 
slowly  over  top  of  church  and  rippie 
gradually  comes  on  the  water.  As  moon 
appears  the  blue  spots  are  slowly  un- 
blinded  R.  and  L.  and  flood  the  stagre). 
As  lamplighter  puts  out  2nd  lamp 
Baby  lense  in  No.  5  is  blinded. 

On  no  account  must  foots  be  raised  or  lighting  of 
stage  be  altered  for  calls  at  end  of  play. 

(Author's  directions.) 


POMANDER  WALK.  91 

ACT  III. 
(Monday  evening,  June  3rd,  1805.) 

SCENE: — All  the  inhabitants  of  Pomander  Walk, 
excepting  BARBARA  PENNYMINT  and  the  REV. 
JACOB  STERNROYD,  are  assembled  round  the  elm, 
where  MADAME  is  L.  c.  presiding  at  the  after- 
dinner  tea-table.  NANETTE  goes  to  and  fro 
with  a  large  kettle  of  boiling  water  from  which 
she  replenishes  the  tea-pot.  JIM  tries  to  help 
her,  but  gets  his  fingers  slapped  for  his  pains. 
It  is  very  near  sunset,  and  a  perfectly  ideal  June 
evening.  The  level  sun,  shining  through  the 
leaves  of  the  elm,  turns  them  to  gold,  and  sets 
some  of  the  windows  of  the  Walk  aflame.  Yet 
there  is  an  air  of  subdued  gloom  over  most  of 
our  friends.  MRS.  POSKETT  sits  under  the  tree, 
and  drinks  her  tea  with  the  resignation  of  a 
martyr.  BASIL,  is  lost  in  sentimental  musings, 
and  his  eyes  wander  to  No.  4  from  which 
he  hopes  BARBARA  will  soon  issue.  RUTH  is  in 
a  bad  temper.  MADAME  is  puzzled  by  MARJO- 
LAINE,  who  is  the  only  person  in  genuinely  high 
spirits.  SIR  PETER  makes  a  heroic  pretence  to 
seem  at  his  ease  but  casts  anxious  looks  at 
MRS.  POSKETT.  BROOKE-HOSKYN  eyes  SIR 
PETER  with  a  disappearing  and  glassy  stare, 
but  is  affable  to  the  rest  of  the  party.  From 
time  to  time  JACK  SAYLE  is  seen  peering 
hungrily  from  behind  the  curtain  of  the  down" 
stair  window  of  No.  3  or  moving  about  like  a 
caged  tiger.  One  great  feature  of  the  Walk  is 
wissing:  the  EYESORE  is  not  at  his  post. 

BROOKE.     (R.     Booming)     Ah,  ladies,  thera  is 


92  POMANDER  WALK. 

nothing  like  a  dish  of  tea  after  dinner.     It  is  so 
soothing ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Tearfully)  Nothing  can  soothe 
the  broken  heart.  (On  R.  c.  of  seat  under  tree) 

(RUTH  L.  of  seat.  MARJOLAINE  up  R.  with  BASIL. 
SIR  PETER  down  L.  JIM  R.  of  tea-table. 
MARJOLAINE  takes  cup  from  BASIL,  and  takes 
it  to  the  tea-table.) 

SIR  PETER.  (Asserting  himself;  with  forced 
cheerfulness)  Hah! — I've  always  said  Pomander 
Walk  was  a  Haven  of  Content.  Look  at  it! — (No 
one  pays  the  slightest  attention)  I  say,  look  at  it! 

(BROOKE  glares.     MRS.  POSKETT  and  RUTH  turn 
their  backs  on  him.    BASIL  sighs.) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Running  to  SIR  PETER,  coming 
to  the  rescue)  There's  something  the  matter  with 
the  Walk  to-night,  Sir  Peter;  I'm  the  only  merry 
one  among  you ! 

MADAME.  (To  MARJOLAINE,  with  quiet  re- 
monstrance) Marjolaine ! 

(SiR  PETER  wanders  up  and  round  to  R.) 

MARJOLAINE.  Oh,  let  me  laugh,  Maman! 
(Whispers)  They  are  so  droll !  Sir  Peter  is  afraid 
of  Mrs.  Poskett;  Mrs.  Poskett  is  almost  in  tears; 
Mr.  Basil  is  gloomy ;  Ruth  is  in  a  bad  temper ;  and 
Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  hasn't  got  over  Saturday's 
banquet ! 

MADAME.  (With  grave  reproof)  But  you, 
Marjolame 

MARJOLAINE.  (Laughing)  You  told  me  to  fight 
it,  Maman! 


POMANDER  WALK.  93 

(MADAME  shakes  her  head,  and  sits  at  the  tea- 
table.) 

SIR  PETER.  (R.  of  BROOKE-HOSKYN.  Heartily) 
Didn't  see  you  in  Church  yesterday,  Brooke.  Too 
much  turtle  on  Saturday — what 

BROOKE.  Nothing  of  the  sort,  sir! — I  was  hold- 
ing my  dear  Selina's  hand !  (H e  turns  on  his  heel) 

SIR  PETER.    Um. 

MRS.  POSKETT.    How  is  that  dear,  innocent  lamb  ? 

BROOKE.  Gambolling,  ma'am.  Figuratively 
speaking,  Selina  is  gamboling. 

MRS.  POSKETT.    How  wonderful! 

BASIL.  (Down  L.)  Miss  Marjory,  won't  you 
cheer  us  with  a  song? 

MADAME.  (Hastily)  I  am  sure  she  would  prefer 
not  to  sing  to-night. 

MARJOLAINE.  Oh,  yes,  Maman,  with  pleasure, 
if  they  would  like  it! 

MADAME.     Brave  chik£ 

SIR  PETER.  (R.)  Sing  that  pretty  little  thing — 
(Roars)  "  Oh,  dear,  what  can  the  matter  be." 

BROOKE.     (With  a  snort)    Ha! 

SIR  PETER.  (Turning  on  him  furiously)  Well, 
sir? 

BROOKE.  (With  arched  eye-brows)  What,  sir? 
(Goes  up) 

MADAME.  (Amiably)  Sir  Peter— Mrs.  Poskett's 
cup  is  empty. 

( BROOKE-HOSKYN  goes  into  gazebo  and  sits.) 

SIR  PETER.  Is  it  ? — O  hang !  (To  MRS.  POSKETT, 
gruffly)  Your  cup,  ma'am! 

MRS.  POSKETT.     (Looking  up  at  him  tenderly) 
How  kind  you  are! 

(SiR  PETER  takes  cup  to  tea-table.) 


94  POMANDER  WALK. 

BASIL.    (To  quiet  them  for  MARJOLAINE'S  song) 
Hush,  hush ! 

(JiM  listens  to  song  from  window  of  No.  I.) 
MARJOLAINE.     (Sings) 

Oh,  dear,  what  can  the  matter  be  ? 

Dear,  dear,  what  can  the  matter  be? 
Oh,  dear,  what  can  the  matter  be? 

Johnnie's  sc  1  ng  at  the  fair! 
He  promised  he'd  buy  me  a  fairing  would  please  me, 

And  then  for  a  kiss,  oh,  he  said  he  would  tease 

me; 
He  promised  to  buy  me  a  bunch  of  blue  ribbon, 

To  set  off  my  bbnnie  brown  hair. 

BROOKE.     (In  his  grandest  manner,  applauding 
with  the  tips  of  his  fingers)    Brava !    Brava ! 

(MRS.  POSKETT  beckons  to  MARJOLAINE  who  runs 
to  R.  of  her.) 

SIR  PETER.     Brava  be  hanged!     Capital!     (To 
RUTH)    Where's  little  Miss  Barbara? 
RUTH.     (Fiercely)    Sh! 

SIR  PETER.    Well,  I'm ! 

MARJOLAINE.     (Sings) 

He  promised  to  buy  me  a  basket  of  posies, 
A  garland  of  lilies,  a  garland  of  roses, 

A  little  straw  hat  to  set  off  the  blue  ribbon 
To  tie  up  my  bonnie  brown  hair 

For  it's 

(Chorus  OMNES.) 
Oh,  dear,  what  can  the  matter  be,  etc. 


POMANDER  WALK.  95 

(Half  way  through  the  2nd  verse  SIR  PETER  joins 
in — JIM  at  lower  window  also  joins  in  chorus 
and  is  stopped  by  SIR  PETER.  General  applause. 
"Thank  you"!  "  Very  sweet" !  etc.  NANETTE 
comes  up  to  MARJOLAINE.) 

NANETTE.    Mon  Dleu,  que  c'est  joli! 

SIR  PETER.  (Roaring)  "  Oh,  dear,  what  can  the 
•natterbe." 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Breaking  down)  O  don't! — I 
can't  bear  it. 

RUTH.    (To  SIR  PETER)    Brute! 

BROOKE.  Mong  doo,  mong  doo !  Silence  for  the 
Admiral's  song. 

SIR  PETER.    By  Jehoshaphat! 

MADAME.  Sir  Peter — (Indicating  MRS.  POSKETT) 
Take  her  another  dish  of  tea. 

SIR  PETER.  Me,  ma'am ! — (But  he  takes  it  'round 
in  front)  It's  a  confounded  conspiracy!  (To  MRS. 
POSKETT)  Your  tea,  ma'am. 

MRS.  POSKETT.     (Sobbing)    How  sweet  of  you! 

SIR  PETER.  Dash  it  and  hang  it,  ma'am,  you're 
crying  into  it!  (SiR  PETER  and  BROOKE-HOSKYN 
glare  at  each  other.  SIR  PETER  goes  up) 

MARJOLAINE.  (To  RUTH)  Where  is  Barbara? 
(Cross  to  RUTH  and  down  R.) 

RUTH.  (Rising,  taking  her  apart)  It's  enough 
to  make  a  saint  swear !  She's  been  locked  in  with 
Doctor  Johnson  since  Saturday.  Only  comes  out  for 
meals. 

( BROOKE-HOSKYN  goes  to  R.  of  MADAME  at  tea- 
table.) 

SIR  PETER.  (To  BASIL)  Pr ingle,  can  you  tell 
me  what's  come  over  the  Walk? 

(JiM  comes  out  of  No.  i.) 


96  POMANDER  WALK. 

BASIL.  (Cold  and  stiff)  The  Walk  has  lofty 
ideals,  sir;  perhaps  you  have  fallen  short  of  them! 
(He  turns  away) 

SIR    PETER.      (Speechless)      By    Jehoshaphat! 

(Up  L.) 

BROOKE.  (Booming)  Yes,  ma'am;  Sherry  was 
in  fine  condition  on  Saturday. 

SIR  PETER.  (Trying  again)  And  port,  too,  eh, 
Brookie,  my  boy? 

BROOKE.  (Sternly)  My  name  is  Brooke- 
Hoskyn,  sir,  and  I  was  referring  to  my  Right 
Honourable  friend,  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan! 

SIR  PETER.  (Grumbles)  Why  couldn't  you  say 
so! 

BROOKE.  (To  the  assembly)  As  I  was  about  to 
say,  (With  glare  at  SIR  PETER)  when  I  was  inter- 
rupted— What  wit !  What  brilliance ! 

RUTH.    Oh,  do  tell  us ! 

BROOKE.  In  order  to  appreciate  the  point,  you 
must  remember  the  weather  was  sultry  on  Satur- 
day  

SIR  PETER.     Gave  you  a  headache,  what? 

BROOKE.  (Glares,  but  proceeds)  "  Brooke,"  says 
he,  "  Brooke,  my  boy  "  (Pats  MRS.  POSKETT  heavily 
on  the  shoulder,  she  breaks  down,  and  sobs)  just 
like  that — "  it's  a  very  warm  night !  "  (He  looks 
round  for  applause,  and  ultimately  gets  it) 

SIR  PETER.    H'm.     Don't  see  much  in  that. 

BROOKE.  Nobody  ever  suspected  you  of  a  sense 
of  humour,  sir!  (To  the  others)  Ah — and  my 
friend,  H.  R.  H.  the  P.  of  W. 

ALL.     (Except  SIR  PETER,  with  awe)    Oh — h! 

SIR  PETER.    Who? 

BROOKE.  (Crushingly)  His  Royal  Highness, 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  sir ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.    (Eagerly)    What  did  he  say? 

BROOKE.  It  was  not  so  much  what  he  said,  as  his 
manner  of  saying  it.  Just : — "  Ah,  Brooke,  lend  me 


POMANDER  WALK.  97 

a  guinea ! "  but  oh,  the  elegance !  Oh,  the  con- 
descension ! 

SIR  PETER.    Well!  of  all  the ! 

MADAME.  Do  you  ever  make  speeches,  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn  ? 

BROOKE.  (Awkwardly)  Short  ones,  ma'am. 
Frequent,  but  short.  I  have  proposed  the  health  of 
many  gentlemen  of  distinction. 

RUTH.    How  clever  you  must  be! 

BROOKE.  (With  exquisite  modesty)  Oh — ! 
,  (Sits  L.  of  MRS.  POSKETT) 

MADAME.  How  strangely  empty  the  Walk  looks 
without  our  fisherman! 

BASIL.  (Who  has  gone  up  L.  c.)  I  was  wonder- 
ing  what  I  missed.  Of  course!  The  Eyesore! 

RUTH.    He  leaves  a  blank. 

MARJOLAINE.    He  was  a  sort  of  statue, 

MRS.  POSKETT.  The  Walk  is  not  the  Walk  with- 
out him. 

SIR  PETER.  Why,  he  tried  to  drown  your  cat, 
ma'am ! 

MADAME.  Oh,  Sir  Peter !  Have  you  driven  him 
away? 

ALL.    For  shame,  Sir  Peter ! 

SIR  PETER.  (L.)  B.ut,  dash  it  and  hang  it  I  I 
haven't ! 

(Nobody  believes  him.  All  shake  their  heads 
gloomily.  BARBARA  rushes  in  great  excitement 
out  of  No.  4.) 

BARBARA.  (Skips  across  to  M^RJCLAIITE  R.) 
Marjory!  Marjory!  (Sh?  stops  alubed  on  see- 
ing the  others)  Oh — I  uidn't  know 

(RuTH  down  R.) 

MADAME.    A  dish  of  tea,  Miss  Barbara? 
BARBARA.       (Curtly)       No!       (Apologetically? 


Qg  POMANDER  WALK. 

Oh,  no,  thank  you  I — Marjory,  can  I  speak  to  you? 

SIR  PETER.  (L.  of  BARBARA,  intervening  with 
clumsy  playfulness)  Ah,  Miss  Barbara,  I  didn't 
see  you  in  Church  yesterday. 

BARBARA.  (Confused)  Wasn't  I  there ?  I  don't 
remember. 

SIR  PETER.  Come  now,  come  now!  What  was 
the  text? 

BARBARA.  Oh,  I  know !  "If  any  of  you  know 
of  any  cause  or  just  impediment " 

RUTH.     (Shocked)     Barbara ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Coming  to  the  rescue)  Come 
away,  Babs.  Don't  worry  her,  Sir  Peter. 

SIR  PETER.  (In  despair)  Even  Missie!  (Sits 
by  MRS.  POSKETT,  gets  up  again  immediately) 

RUTH.  Try  to  put  some  sense  in  her,  Miss 
Marjory. 

SIR  PETER.  (With  a  last  effort)  Well,  ladies! 
To-morrow  is  the  fourth  of  June. 

BROOKE.  As  this  is  the  third,  you  might  safely 
have  left  us  to  infer  that,  sir. 

(The  two  men  face  each  other  and  speak  across 
MRS.  POSKETT.) 

SIR  PETER.  But  it  seems  necessary  to  remind  the 
bosom  friend  of  H.  R.  H.  the  P.  of  W.  that  it  is  the 
birthday  of  His  Most  Gracious  Majesty  King 
George  the  Third! — T(MRS.  POSKETT  holds  cup  near 
SIR  PETER  who  unconsciously  takes  it)  Ladies,  I 
warn  you  not  to  be  alarmed  when  you  hear  me  fire 
the  salute  as  usual. 

BROOKE.  As  usual! — Ha! — That  brass  popgun 
of  yours 

SIR  PETER.  (Furious)  Popgun !  (SiR 

PETER  gives  cup^  back  to  MRS.  POSKETT) 

BROOKE.  I  said  popgun,  sir ! — has  never  gone  off 
yet! 


POMANDER  WALK.  99 

(MRS.  POSKETT  turns  towards  BROOKE-HOSKYN  and 
unconsciously  puts  cup  into  his  hand.) 

SIR  PETER.  Because  some  infernal  scoundrel  has 
always  tampered  with  the  charge !  But  to-night  1*11 
load  it  myself!  ( BROOKE-HOSKYN  gives  cup  back 
to  MRS.  POSKETT  who  drinks  the  remains  of  her 
tea)  and,  damme !  I'll  take  it  to  bed  with  me !  (He 
stumps  off  in  a  rage  into  No.  i.  On  the  way  he 
runs  first  into  BASIL,  then  into  JIM) 

RUTH.  (To  MRS.  POSKETT  who  is  finishing  her 
tea)  We  shall  break  him  down,  dear. 

(NANETTE  and  JIM  clear  away  tea  things  and  table, 
into  No.  5.  MADAME  turns  up  stage.  MRS. 
POSKETT,  RUTH  and  BROOKE-HOSKYN  also  go 
np.  MARJOLAINE  and  BARABARA  down  R.) 

BARBARA.  (In  deep  conversation  with  MARJO- 
LAINE excitedly)  Yes! — He  does  surround  it  with 
flowers  of  speech,  but  he  says  it  quite  clearly. 

MARJOLAINE.    Dear  Doctor  Johnson ! 

BARBARA.  But  I  cannot  bear  the  bird's  eye  on  me. 
It  is  like  Charles's.  O  Marjory,  he  looked  at  me  so 
coldly  all  the  time  I  was  teaching  him ! 

MARJOLAINE.  Never  mind  how  he  'ooked,  if  he'll 
only  talk ! 

BARBARA.    How  can  I  ever  thank  you? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Impulsively).  Barbara,  you  may 
be  able  to  help  me!  I'll  tell  you  a  great  secret — I 
am  to  be  married  to-morrow ! 

(Exit  JIM  into  No.  i.) 

BARBARA.    (Screams)    Oh!    Oh! 

RUTH.     (Turning)     Is  anything  the  matter? 

MARJOLAINE.  No,  no!  (To  BARBARA)  Yes! 
married  to-morrow !  Swear  you  will  never  tell  any- 
body, if  you  live  to  be  ninety ! 


ioo  POMANDER  WALK. 

BARBARA.    Yes,  oh,  yes !    I  mean,  no,  oh,  no ! 
MARJOLAINE.    And  you  must  be  my  bridesmaid. 
BARBARA.    Marjory! — Who  is  it? 
MARJOLAINE.     Sh! — (Points  to  No.  3)     There! 
BARBARA.     (Speechless)     Not  Doctor  Sternroyd! 
MARJOLAINE.     No,  no! — There,  at  the  window! 

(JACK  is  momentarily  visible.) 

BARBARA.     O  how  lovely. 

MARJOLAINE.  Isn't  he!  (They  sit  c.)  We're 
going  to  be  married  by  licence. 

BARBARA.    What's  that? 

MARJOLAINE.  I  don't  know.  Doctor  Sternroyd's 
getting  it.  It  lets  you  be  married  anywhere,  when- 
ever you  like. 

BARBARA.  Heavenly! — If  Doctor  Johnson 
teaches  Basil  what  I've  taught  Doctor  Johnson,  I'll 
have  a  licence  too. 

(RUTH  and  BASIL  are  walking  slowly  from  R.  to  L. 
at  back.) 

MARJOLAINE.     (Calling)     Mr.  Basil! 

BASIL.     (Coming  to  them)     Yes,  Miss  Marjory. 

MARJOLAINE.    Barbara's  not  feeling  very  well — 

BARBARA.     (Drooping)     No 

BASIL.    Heavens !    Shall  I  play  to  her  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Innocently)  No ;  it's  not  so  bad 
as  that.  But  it's  her  evening  hour  with  Doctor 
Johnson,  and  she  is  not  quite  equal  to  it 

RUTH.  Why,  bless  my  heart !  She's  been  sitting 
with  that  bird  all  day ! 

BARBARA.     Unkind  Ruth!     The  lonely  bird! 

MARJOLAINE.  So  she  wondered  whether  you 
would  take  her  place  for  once 

BASIL.  (Eagerly)  Why,  of  course!  With  all 
the  pleasure  in  life! 


POMANDER  WALK;  101 

'BARBARA.  (Demurely)  .*Q.h;!— ,bat  ;yp» ;  don't 
know  what  you  are  letting  yourself  in  for !  ' 

RUTH.  Yes.  He  swears  horribly.  (Joins 
MADAME  and  BROOKE-HOSKYN  and  MRS.  POSKETT) 

BASIL.  I'll  be  Orpheus  with  his  lute.  I'll  play 
the  Kreutzer  Sonata  to  him.  (Going  towards 
house) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Anxiously)  No,  no! — Just  let 
him  talk !  Just  let  him  talk !  (Rises) 

(BASIL  dashes  into  No.  4.) 

BROOKE.  (To  RUTH,  MRS.  POSKETT  and 
MADAME)  Indeed,  yes;  (ADMIRAL  appears  at 
upper  window  and  puts  groundsel  in  thrush's  cage) 
I  am  making  a  collection  of  my  anecdotes.  I  shall 
call  the  book — (BROOKE  catches  sight  of  ADMIRAL) 
"  Pearls  before  Swine  " — Did  I  tell  you  my  friend 
Sherry's  bonn  mott  about  the  weather ? 

ALL.     (With  alacrity)    Yes!    Yes! 

(They  turn  and  go  up  stage.) 

BROOKE.  (Hurt)  Pardon  me.  (Eagerly)  Ah! 
but  Miss  Barbara  was  not  here!  (He  buttonholes 
her,  so  to  speak,  takes  her  L.  c.  and  booms)  Im- 
agine, then,  that  you  are  standing  just  where  you  are 
standing,  and  I  am  Sheridan.  You  remember  how 
we  perspired  on  Saturday  evening.  (Suiting  the 
action  to  the  words)  I  come  up  to  you — so.  I 

place  my  hand  familiarly  on  your  shoulder — so 

(BARBARA  winces)  You  understand:  you  are 
Sheridan — no:  I  am  Sheridan,  and  you  are  me. 
(JANE  rushes  out  of  No.  3.  She  ties  white  glove 
on  door  knocker  and  then  comes  down  to  BROOKE- 
HOSKYN)  And  I — that  is,  Sheridan — say  to  you — 
I  mean  me — Brooke,  my  boy 

JANE.   (In  a  horrible  whisper)   Master !  Master ! 


102  POMANDER  WALK. 


.  What  >s,ijt?    What  the  devil  is  it?—  Go 
away  !     (tie  goes  to  her) 

JANE.  Master!  —  (She  whispers,  pointing  fran- 
tically at  No.  3) 

BROOKE.  (Violently  disturbed)  Eh?—  What?— 
There,  now!  So  like  Selina!  Spoilt  the  point  of 
my  story!  (To  everybody)  Excuse  me!  (He 
and  JANE  go  into  No.  3.  BARBARA  goes  to  MAR- 
JOLAINE) 

MADAME.  I  think  I  shall  go  in.  —  Marjolaine 
-  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  Oh,  Maman  —  I  have  so  much  to 
say  to  Barbara! 

MADAME.  You  are  so  feverish  —  so  unlike  your- 
self !  —  You  are  not  going  to  be  indisposed  -  ? 

MARJOLAINE.  I  am  so  well  —  So  well!  —  I  never 
was  so  well  ! 

(MADAME  expresses  uneasiness,  and  goes  slowly 
into  No.  5.  NANETTE,  who  has  already  re- 
moved the  tea-things,  now  carries  in  the  table.) 

RUTH.  (Talking  with  MRS.  POSKETT,  coming  L. 
c.)  Well  —  that's  what  /  should  do.  Bring  him  to 
his  knees. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  I  brought  Poskett  to  his:  why 
shouldn't  I  bring  Peter  ? 

RUTH.  Strike  while  the  iron's  hot.  He  knows 
we're  angry  with  him.  Come  along  in.  Put  on 
your  prettiest  cap.  I'll  help  you. 

(They  go  towards  No.  2.  DOCTOR  STERNROYD 
comes  round  the  corner.  He  is  a  carrying  a 
number  of  grocer's  parcels.) 

RUTH.    Dear  me,  Doctor  !    How  you  are  loaded  ! 
STERNROYD.     (Confused)     Good  evening,  ladies! 
Pray  excuse  me  if  I  cannot  remove  my  hat. 
MRS.  POSKETT,    And  not  books,  this  time? 


POMANDER  WALK.  103 

(MARJOLAINE  and  BARBARA  cross  to  L.) 

STERNROYD.  No,  no,  no.  Parcels.  Just  parcels. 
Simple  necessaries,  I  assure  you. 

(RUTH  and  MRS.  POSKETT  go  into  No.  2.  STERN- 
ROYD shuffles  towards  No.  3  and  comes  face  to 
face  with  MARJOLAINE  and  BARBARA.) 

BARBARA.    Doctor 

STERNROYD.  More  women!  Simple  necessaries, 
I  do  assure  you. 

BARBARA.  (Eagerly,  alluding  to  the  parcels) 
Doctor,  which  is  the  licence? 

STERNROYD.  (  Taken  aback  )  Eh—  ?— dear,  dear, 
dear! — Miss  Marjory,  you  told  her? 

MARJOLAINE.     Of  course. 

STERNROYD.  Tut,  tut!  Dear,  dear! — What  says 
the  poet  ? — "  Who  was't  betrayed  the  Capitol  ?  A 
woman ! " 

JACK.  (  Who  has  cautiously  to  pened  the  window; 
in  a  hoarse  whisper)  Doctor!  For  heaven's  sake 
look  sharp  with  the  victuals ! 

STERNROYD.  (Flustered)  There!  There!  The 
cuckoo  in  the  nest!  (He  shuffles  into  No.  3.  At 
the  same  moment  BASIL,  wildly  excited,  dashes  out 
of  No.  4) 

BASIL.     (Breathless)     Miss  Barbara  > 

BARBARA.  (Leaning  for  support  on  MARJO- 
LAINE) Oh! — He's  coming! 

BASIL.    Oh,  Miss  Barbara! 

MARJOLAINE.  Did  Dr.  Johnson  speak? 
(Crosses  to  R.  of  BARBARA) 

BASIL.    Speak ! — Ah,  the  gifted  creature ! 

JACK.  (From  the  window,  in  a  whisper)  Mar- 
jory! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Turning  to  him)  Oh — take 
care!  (She  moves  towards  him} 


104  POMANDER  WALK. 

BARBARA.     (Innocently)     What  did  he  say,  Mr. 
Basil? 
JACK.     (To  MARJOLAINE)     Come  closer. 

(MARJOLAINE  goes  inside  the  gate.) 

BASIL.  (To  BARBARA)  Shall  I  tell  you?  Dare 
I  tell  you? 

BARBARA.     (In  a  flutter)    You  know  best. 

BASIL.  He  said — It  was  all  in  one  breath — 
He  said : — O-burn-your-lungs-and-liver-tell-Barbara 
you-love-her ! 

BARBARA.  (Rapturously)  Oh,  Mr.  Basil! 
(She  sinks  into  his  arms) 

BASIL.  (Enthusiastically)  But  it's  true! — It's 
true ! — Come !  Let  me  tell  you  my  own  way !  (He 
takes  her  into  the  summer-house) 

JACK.  (To  MARJOLAINE,  who  is  now  under  the 
window)  It's  perfectly  monstrous!  The  old 
fossil's  brought  two  eggs,  a  red  herring,  and  a  pot 
of  current  jelly! 

(THE  EYESORE  comes  to  his  post,  and  begins  to 
fish.) 

MARJOLAINE.    Poor  Jack ! 

JACK.  Is  that  rations  for  a  grown  man?  Says 
he'll  make  an  omelette.  Two  eggs !  An  omelette ! 
Ho! 

BASIL.  (In  the  summer-house)  My  own !  (He 
makes  the  word  "  own  "  sound  like  a  lovely  long- 
drawn  organ  note) 

BARBARA.    My  Basil!     (Rapture.    Embrace) 

JACK.  Can't  you  send.  (Pointing  to  the  EYE- 
SORE) that  object  for  food? 

MARJOLAINE.  I  daren't  speak  to  him:  he  al- 
ways turns  out  to  be  somebody  else.  Jack,  if  you'll 
be  good,  I'll  get  it  myself! 

JACK.     Angel!     Make  haste!     I'm  starving! 


MANDER   WALK 


Act  Ifl— Page  107 


POMANDER  WALK.  103 

MARJOLAINE.  If  you  hear  me  singing,  look  out 
of  the  window.  (She  runs  into  No.  5) 

BASIL.    And  now,  what's  the  next  thing  to  do  ? 

BARBARA.    We  must  tell  Ruth.     (Rises) 

BASIL,  Yes !  At  once !  (Rises)  Oh !  I'll  buy 
Doctor  Johnson  a  golden  chain !  (Slowly  crossing 
L.,  embracing  BARBARA  all  the  way) 

BARBARA.  And  I'll  wear  it  for  him.  The  dear 
bird! 

BASIL  and  BARBARA.  (  Together)  The  dear,  dear 
bird! 

(MRS.   POSKETT  and  RUTH   come  out  of  No.  2. 
MRS.  POSKETT  is  magnificent.) 

BARBARA.  Dear  Ruth!  Come  in  quickly.  We 
have  such  news  for  you ! 

RUTH.  Very  well.  (To  MRS.  POSKETT)  Cour- 
age— Lady  Antrobus!  (Goes  into  her  house) 

(RUTH,  BARBARA  and  BASIL  go  into  No.  4.  MRS. 
POSKETT  reconnoitres.  She  sees  the  EYESORE. 
She  goes  to  him.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Looking  carefully  round) 
My  good  man — Mister — Sir — You  threw  Sem- 
pronius  into  the  river  on  Saturday — (Offering  him 
a  coin)  Here's  a  crown  for  you. 

(THE  EYESORE  bites  it,  spits  on  it,  and  pockets  it.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  I  want  you  to  knock  at  that 
door.  (She  points  to  No.  i.  Without  moving  from 
his  place,  the  EYESORE  picks  up  a  stone  and  hurls  it 
at  the  door.  MRS.  POSKETT  utters  a  startled 
"  Oh !  "  THE  EYESORE  goes  out,  leaving  his  tackle. 
MRS.  POSKETT  goes  to  tree.  JIM  opens  the  door) 

JIM.     (Looking  round  suspiciously)     Cuss  them 


106  POMANDER  WALK. 

boys !  (He  turns  to  go  in  again,  but  comes  down  a 
little  when  MRS.  POSKETT  speaks) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Amiably)  Good  evening,  Mr. 
Jim! 

JIM.  (Touching  his  forelock)  Bosun  of  the 
Admiral's  gig,  mum. 

MRS.  POSKETT.    What  lovely  peas ! 

JIM.  Ah.  Takes  a  uncommon  lot  o'  moistenin', 
though. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  It  is  thirsty  weather.  (Moving 
down  stage  c.) 

JIM.    And  a  truer  word  you  never  spoke. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Mr.  Bosun,  I  want  to  see  the 
Admiral. 

JIM.  Ah,  'tis  dirty  weather  wi'  him,  mum,  sure 
'nough.  HeVe  a-locked  himself  in  by  himself,  and 
he's  a-swearin'  somethin'  'orrible  for  to  'ear. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Mr  Bosun,  would  five  shillings 
quench  your  thirst? 

JIM.  Well,  mum,  I  can't  say  but  'twould  take 
the  edge  off  it. 

MRS.  POSKETT.    But  I  must  see  Sir  Peter. 

JIM.  Sheer  off  a  cable's  length,  then.  (She  does 
so  L.  He  shouts)  Admiral  ahoy ! 

SIR  PETER.  (Opening  his  upstairs  window) 
D'ye  want  to  wake  the  dead? 

JIM.    Axing  your  pardon,  Admiral :  sunset. 

SIR  PETER.    What  of  it,  you  lubber? 

JIM.    Shall  7  haul  the  flag  down,  Admiral? 

SIR  PETER.  On  your  life!  I've  hoisted  it  and 
hauled  it  down  with  my  own  hands,  morning  and 
night,  any  time  these  five  years.  D'ye  think  I'll  let 
a  son  of  a  sea-cook  like  you,  do  it  now  ?  You  wait 
till  I  come  down.  (Disappears) 

JIM.  (To  MRS.  POSKETT)  Got  him,  mum. 
(Coming  down) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Giving  him  money)  Here; 
and  thank  you.  (Moves  L.) 

JIM.    Thank  you,  mum. 


POMANDER  WALK.  107 

SIR  PETER.  (Appears  at  Jus  door.  He  sees  MBS. 
POSKETT  and  stops)  Jim  I 

JIM.    Ay,  ay,  sir. 

SIR.  PETER.    Haul  it  down  yourself.     (Going) 

JIM.  No,  Admiral.  Not  after  what  passed  your 
lips. 

SIR  PETER.  Damme  !  I  can't  leave  it  hoisted  all 
night  ! 

JIM.  That's  as  mebbe.  Even  the  son  of  a  sea- 
cook  'as  'is  feelin's,  same  as  them  what's  'igher 
placed.  (Exit  round  corner) 

SIR  PETER.  (Shaking  his  fist  after  him)  You 
mutinous  scoundrel  !  (He  looks  at  MRS.  POSKETT, 
then  at  the  flag.  Braces  himself  for  the  effort) 
Cheer  up,  my  hearty  !  (Hums)  "  Oh  dear  what 
can  the  matter  be." 

MRS.  POSKETT  slowly  sidles  round  by  the  railings 
towards    SIR    PETER.     He   hauls    down    the 


MRS.  POSKETT.  (When  he  is  mixed  up  in  the 
lines)  Admiral  - 

SIR  PETER.    Ma'am. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Why  do  you  force  me  to  ad- 
dress you  ? 

SIR  PETER.  Me!  —  Force  you  !—  Gobblessmy- 
soul! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  For  your  own  good.  Oh,  Sir 
Peter,  you  was  King  of  the  Walk  on  Friday  ;  now 
Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  will  usurp  that  title.  (Sweeps 
down  to  R.  c.) 

SIR  PETER.  (Furiously,  comes  out  of  his  gar- 
den]  Will  he  so,  ma'am  ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  The  Walk  says  you  have  low- 
ered the  prestige  of  His  Majesty's  Navy.  (Move* 
towards  the  elm) 

SIR  PETER.  (Following  her)  Dash  it  and  hang 
it,  ma'am,  what  do  vou  mean? 


io8  POMANDER  WALK. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Well  you  know  what  I  mean. 
The  entire  Walk  saw  you  press  me  to  your  heart. 

SIR  PETER.    I  didn't — did  I ? 

MRS.  POSKETT.  The  entire  Walk  witnessed  the 
outrage.  And  the  entire  Walk  is  indignant  that 
nothing  has  come  of  it. 

SIR  PETER.     Gobblessmysoul ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Oh,  how  unsailorlike !  That  is 
what  the  Walk  says :  How  unsailorlike ! 

SIR  PETER.    It  doesn't  say  that ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  It  says  that.  I  am  only  a  lone 
widow.  If  Alderman  Poskett  were  alive,  he'd  see 
you  did  the  right  thing  by  his  wife.  But  I ! — I  must 
leave  my  once  happy  home! 

SIR  PETER.    But— dash  it  and  hang  it ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Can  I  bear  the  sneers  of  a 
Pennymint?  The  arched  eyebrows  of  a  Brooke- 
Hoskyn?  I  must  let  my  house.  (With  a  glance  at 
him)  My  freehold  house.  Let  it  to  an  undesirable 
tenant :  a  person  with  a  mangle. 

SIR  PETER.     (Horrified)     Gobblessmysoul! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  To  be  sure,  the  expense  of  mov- 
ing is  nothing  when  one  has  four  hundred  a  year 
in  the  Funds.  (Again  he  is  impressed)  But,  oh, 
my  lovely  furniture  will  be  chipped !  And  oh !  how 
shall  I  part  from  my  friends? 

SIR  PETER.    But  it's  not  so  bad  as  that? 

MRS.  POSKETT.  It's  worse!  And  that  innocent 
cat,  Sempronius !  What  will  he  say  ?  He  took  a 
chill  on  Saturday.  The  change  will  kill  him.  (Sits 
c.) 

SIR  PETER.  (R.)  Dash  it  and  hang  it,  don't  cry, 
ma'am ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  It  isn't  as  if  I  was  older.  I 
could  be  much  older!  But  I'm  young  enough  to 
have  a  tender  heart.  But  never  mind!  I  will  be 
brave!  You  shall  not  see  me  weep!  (Weeps  bit- 
terly) 

SIR  PETER.     (In  great  mental  distress)     But— 


POMANDER  WALK.  109 

Gobblessmysoul ! — What  am  I  to  do  with  Jim,  and 
the  flag-staff,  and  the  thrush,  and  the  sweet  peas? 
What  am  I  to  do  with  Number  One? 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Knock  a  door  through  and  make 
one  house  of  them.  O  these  paltry  details!  Keep 
everything  as  it  is.  Sweet  peas!  What  more  ap- 
propriate! Ain't  I  Pamela?  Ain't  you  Peter? 
Don't  they  both  begin  with  a  sweet  pea  ? 

SIR  PETER.  Damme,  you're  right!  You've 
swept  me  fore  and  aft!  You've  blown  me  out  of 
the  sea !  By  George,  ma'am,  I'll  marry  you  if  you'll 
have  me ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Sinking  on  his  breast)  I'll 
have  you,  Peter ! — I've  got  you ! 

SIR  PETER.  I'll  haul  the  brass  gun  out  and  fire 
it  to-night.  (Enter  OTFORD)  That'll  tell  the 
Walk! 

MBS.  POSKETT.    I'll  tell  the  Walk! 

(LORD  OTFORD  has  turned  the  corner  and  come  to 
the  elm  L.) 

OTFORD.     {Scandalised)     Peter! 

SIR  PETER.  (Starting)  Gobblessmysoul!  Ot- 
ford! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Present  me,  Peter — and  tell 
him!  (She  clings  to  SIR  PETER  L.  of  him) 

SIR  PETER.  (To  OTFORD)  Um — my  neighbour 
^-Mrs.  Poskett 

MRS.  POSKETT.    Widow  of  Alderman  Poskett. 

SIR  PETER.  Um — Lord  Otford — I  am — she  is — 
we  are — No,  hang  it !  You  tell  him ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Crossing  towards  OTFORD) 
Happy  to  meet  any  friend  of  my  future  husband. 

OTFORD.  (Courteously,  but  preoccupied)  Am  I 
to  understand ? 

SIR  PETER.  (Wiping  his  brozv)  Yes,  Jack. 
u  nderstand.  Understand,  without  further  palaver. 


I  io  POMANDER  WALK. 

OXFORD.  My  felicitations. — Madam,  can  you 
spare  him  a  little  while? 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Bridling)  I'm  sure  no  real 
friend  of  Sir  Peter's  would  wish  to  tell  him  any- 
thing his  future  wife  may  not  hear. 

OXFORD.  I  assure  you,  ma'am,  the  matter  is 
strictly  personal  to  myself. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Naughty  Lord  Otford!  Well, 
Peter,  I'll  wait  at  the  gate.  (She  moves  up) 

SIR  PETER.  (Dazed)  That's  right.  Wait  at  the 
gate — wait  at  the  gate ! 

OTFORD.     Peter — Jack's  disappeared! 

SIR  PETER.    Serves  you  right! 

OTFORD.  Hang  it !  (Pointing  to  MRS.  POSKETT) 
Did  I  say,  serves  you  right,  just  now  ?  Peter :  he's 
run  away  with  that  gel! 

SIR  PETER.    That  he  hasn't.    The  gel's  here. 

OTFORD.    Fact  ? 

SIR  PETER.    Solemn. 

OTFORD.  Peter,  do  you  know  who  her  mother 
is? 

SIR  PETER.  (Getting  angry)  You're  not  going 
to  begin  that  again. 

OTFORD.    She's — Lucy  Pryor! 

SIR  PETER.  (Puzzled)  Lucy  Pryor l—(With 
an  exclamation)  Not  Lucy  Pryor! 

OTFORD.  Lucy  Pryor!  Ha!  I  was  telling  her 
how  impossible  the  marriage  was 

SIR  PETER.  (Slapping  his  knee  with  delight) 
And  she  turned  out  to  be  Lucy  Pryor! — Jack,  my 
boy,  you  must  have  felt  like  six  pennorth  of  ha'- 
pence, what? 

OTFORD.  I  did.  But  now  I — I  want  to  see  her 
again. 

SIR  PETER.  (Chuckling)  Never  know  when 
you've  had  enough,  eh? 

OTFORD.  But  she'll  never  allow  me  inside  her 
house.  She  was  magnificent.  Patuit  dea^  Peter! 
She  came  the  goddess ! 


POMANDER  WALK.  in 

SIR  PETER.  (Delighted)  Ha !  What  did  I  tell 
ye? 

OXFORD.    Can't  you  coax  her  out  here? 

SIR  PETER.  Me !  No ! — I've  told  you :  I'll  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it. 

(MRS.  POSKETT  has  come  down  L.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Playfully)  Now,  you  two! 
I'm  sure  you've  gossipped  enough. 

OTFORD.  (Quickly)  Madam — will  you  do  me 
a  great  favour?  Will  you  persuade  Madame 
Lachesnais  to  come  and  taste  the  evening  air — not 
telling  her  I  am  here  ? 

SIR  PETER.  Don't  do  anything  of  the  sort, 
Pamela ! 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Peter,  I'm  ashamed  of  you. 
(Cross  to  SIR  PETER.  To  LORD  OTFORD  playfully) 
With  great  pleasure  my  lord.  Me  and  Peter's  that 
happy :  (Knowingly)  we  want  to  see  everybody 
ditto.  (She  goes  to  No.  5.,  knocks,  and  is  admitted. 
BROOKE-HOSKYN  opens  his  upstair  window.  He  is 
in  his  shirtsleeves.  He  ij  distressed.  He  wipes  his 
forehead  with  an  an  enormous  bandana) 

SIR  PETER.  (Alluding  to  MRS.  POSKETT'S  re- 
mark) Gobblessmysoul !  Jack,  is  that  it? — Here, 
come  in,  and  have  a  glass  of  port  wine.  (  They  turn 
up) 

(They  see  BROOKE  at  his  window,  but  they  are  on 
the  right  of  the  elm,  so  that  BROOKE  does  not 
notice  them.) 

OTFORD.  (Stopping)  Hoskyn,  by  all  that's 
wonderful ! 

SIR  PETER.  Brooke-Hoskyn.  I  said  you  must 
know  him. 

OTFORD.    Know  my  old  butler! — I  should  think 


112  POMANDER  WALK. 

so.  He  married  my  cook,  Mrs.  Brooke ! — And  now 
he's  City  Toastmaster 

SIR  PETER.  By  Jehoshaphat! — Is  that — it? 
(Delighted)  When  the  Walk  knows  that ! 

OXFORD.  (Laughing)  That's  your  man  of  fash- 
ion. Peter ! 

SIR  PETER.  (Having  thought  it  over)  No! 
Damme,  no! — He's  a  good  fellow,  and  I'm  not 
a  blackguard! — Jack,  follow  my  lead.  (Coming 
down  to  front  of  tree — a  little  L.  Cheerily  to 
BROOKE)  Hulloa,  Brooke,  my  boy!  Here's  your 
old  friend,  Otf ord ! 

OTFORD.     Glad  to  see  you,  Hoskyn 

BROOKE.  (In  real  distress)  O  don't! — O,  my 
lord ! — Not  at  this  moment — I  ain't  equal  to  it,  your 
lordship — I  reely  ain't. 

OTFORD.  Sorry  you're  ill — Too  much  to  eat — 
and  too  little  to  do.  What  you  want  is  a  family  to 
keep  you  lively. 

BROOKE.  (In  despair)  A  family!  O  my  Lord! 
(Disappears  abrutly) 

'(OTFORD  and  SIR  PETER  go  up  into  No.  i.  JACK 
cautiously  opens  his  window  and  whistles 
"Pop  goes  the  Weasel"  BARBARA  and  BASIL 
appear  at  the  ground  floor  window  of  No.  4. 
JACK  whistles  again.) 

BARBARA.  (As  if  she  were  JULIET)  Hark, 
Basil ! — The  nightingale ! 

(JACK  whistles  once  more,  more  forcibly.) 

BASIL.  (As  if  he  were  ROMEO)  Do  you  think 
it  is  the  nightingale,  dearest  ? 

(JACK  whistles  louder  still.) 
BARBARA,    At  least  let  us  make  believe  it  is. 


POMANDER  WALK.  113 

(JACK  whistles  louder  still.) 

BASIL.  My  own  one !  ( They  coo  together  in  the 
window) 

(MRS.  POSKETT  and  MADAME  come  out  of  No.  5.) 
MRS.  POSKETT.    The  air  is  so  balmy. 
(JACK  disappears.) 

MADAME.  We  were  just  coming  out.  Marjo- 
laine  is  strangely  restless.  (MADAME  sees  BARBARA 
and  BASIL  in  their  ultra-sentimental  attitude)  Ah? 
__Why!— Really? 

BARBARA.  (Joyfully)  Yes!  We  are  to  be 
married  at  once!  We  are  going  to  ask  Doctor 
Sternroyd  to  get  us  a  licence! 

BASIL.     (As  before)    My  own! 

MADAME.    Oh — I  am  so  very  glad ! 

BASIL.  (To  BARBARA)  Come  in,  my  own,  "  lest 
the  winds  of  heaven  visit  your  face  too  roughly." 

(MARJOLAINE  enters  cautiously  from  the  house 
carrying  a  pigeon-pie  and  a  loaf  of  bread;  care- 
fully concealing  them  as  much  as  possible  from 
the  characters  on  the  stage.  She  places  them 
just  inside  the  railings  of  the  house  where 
JACK  is.) 

BARBARA.     Ah,  what  a  poet  Dr.  Johnson  was! 

(BARBARA  and  BASIL  close  the  window,  each  closes 
the  side  of  the  window  opposite  to  them — their 
arms  crossing — as  the  windows  come  together 
their  lips  meet.  They  then  disappear  inside.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.  (Alluding  to  them)  Well  I 
never!  (To  MADAME,  as  they  come  towards  the 


ii4  POMANDER  WALK. 

elm)     I  wanted  you  to  be  the  first  to  know  of  my 
betrothal. 

MADAME.    I  hope  he  will  make  you  very  happy. 

(MRS.  POSKETT  and  MADAME  sit  under  the  tree.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.    I'll  see  to  that. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Joi  Ing  them)  Isn't  it  wonder- 
ful, Maman!  An  angel's  wing  has  brushed  over 
Pomander  Walk,  and  everybody  is  going  to  be 
married. 

MADAME.    Yes,  my  poor  child. 

MARJOLAINE.     (Sings)    "  In  Scarlet  town  -  " 

MADAME.     Surely  you  are  not  going  to  sing? 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Let  her,  ma'am.  'Twill  keep  her 
quiet.  (MRS.  POSKETT  and  MADAME  sit  under  the 


(MARJOLAINE  stands  between  the  elm  and  No.  5. 
She  half  turns  towards  them,  and  sings:) 

In  Scarlet  Town,  where  I  was  born, 
There  was  a  fair  maid  dwellin' 

MADAME.      (To    MRS.    POSKETT)      Ah!    these 
pathetic  old  ballads  I 

(MARJOLAINE  half  -turning  to  No.  3  where  JACK 
appears,  peeping  behind  the  curtain,  sings 
rapidly:) 

A  pigeon  pie  and  a  loaf  of  bread 
Are  just  inside  thr  railin'! 

(Enter  LAMPLIGHTER.  JACK  excitedly  looks  out, 
brt  cannot  see  the  pc"c*l.  Meanwhile  the 
LAMPLIGHTER  has  come  with  h'.*  I*  „  ladder  > 
and  h^s  lighted  the  upper  lamp,  swarming  up 
the  ladder  to  do  so.) 


POMANDER  WALK.  115 

MADAME.  The  Lamplighter ! — Is  there  no  moon 
to  night? 

MRS.  POSKETT.  Oh,  he'll  put  the  lamps  out  when 
the  moon  rises. 

MARJOLAINE.     (Turning  to  them) 

All  in  the  merry  month  of  May 

When  green  buds  they  were  swelling— — 

MADAME.  I  should  like  to  congratule  the  Ad- 
miral. 

MRS.  POSKETT.  I'll  send  him  out  to  you.  (She 
rises,  and  goes  towards  No.  i,  turning  to  the  right 
of  the  tree.  MADAME  accompanies  her  a  little  way. 
MRS.  POSKETT  goes  into  No.  i) 

MARJOLAINE.  (Turning  towards  JACK,  singing 
rapidly,  and  pointing  with  violent  gestures) 

You'll  find  the  parcel  where  I  say 
By  lookin'  or  by  smellin'  !-— 

(She  runs  across  into  gazebo.) 

'(JACK  sees  the  parcel,  and  with  a  "Ha!"  leaves 
the  window.  Now  the  LAMPLIGHTER  is  on  his 
ladder  at  the  second  lamp,  and  from  that  emi- 
nence also  sees  the  parcel.  He  comes  down  hur- 
riedly. MADAME  turns.) 

MADAME.     (Calling)     Marjolame! 
MARJOLAINE.     Me  voila,  Mamanf     (Runs  up 
to  hert  to  .he  right  of  the  tree) 

(MADAME  sits  a  little  to  the  right  of  the  trunk  of 
the  tree.  MARJOLAINE  crouches  beside  her,  on 
the  right,  so  that  her  mother  has  to  turn  away 
from  the  houses  to  speak  to  her.  MARJOLAINE 
keeps  a  watchful  eye  on  No.  3.  THE  LAMP- 
LIGHTEX,  bent  on  capturing  the  parcel,  is  at  th* 


ti6  POMANDER  WALK. 

foot  of  his  ladder.    JACK  appears  at  the  door. 
They  both  stalk  the  parcel.) 

MADAME.  (Gravely)  Marjolaine,  you  are  put- 
ting on  this  gaiety  to  please  me. 

MARJOLAINE.  No,  Maman — (She  sees  the  LAMP- 
LIGHTER'S manoeuvre  and  exclaims)  Oh! 

MADAME.    Why  do  you  cry  out  like  that? 

MARJOLAINE.  (Volubly,  with  a  tremendous  de- 
sire to  laugh)  Nothing,  Maman.  You  are  not  to 
be  anxious  about  me.  I  am  quite  happy.  (She 
watches  the  race  for  the  pie) 

MADAME.     I  saw  Lord  Otford  on  Saturday 

MARJOLAINE.  (Inattentive)  You  saw — (THE 
LAMPLIGHTER  is  gaining  on  JACK)  Oh,  Oh ! 

MADAME.  (Indignant)  Marjolaine!  You  are 
laughing ! 

MARJOLAINE.  (Stifling)  No!  No!  It  was 
surprise ! 

MADAME.  He  was  very  stern — very  indignant — 
but  I  told  him  you 

(THE  LAMPLIGHTER  snatches  the  parcel  and  bolts. 
JACK,  -furious,  wants  to  bolt  after  him,  but 
sees  LORD  OTFORD,  who  has  come  out  of  No.  i, 
and  retires  crestfallen  into  No.  3.  MARJO- 
LAINE is  seized  with  an  uncontrollable  fit  of 
hysterical  laughter  and  dashes  into  No.  5. 
LORD  OTFORD  comes  down  on  the  left  of  the 
tree,  so  that,  when  MADAME  rises,  amazed  at 
MARJOLAINE'S  behaviour,  and  turns  to  follow 
her,  she  finds  herself  face  to  face  with  him.) 

MADAME.    Lord  Otford 

OTFORD.    Forgive  me. 

MADAME.  Pray  allow  me  to  pass.  I  am  very 
anxious  about  my  child. 

OTFORD.  If  I  am  any  judge,  that  young  lady  is 
in  the  best  of  health  and  spirits. 


POMANDER  WALK.  117 

MADAME.  You  are  mistaken.  She  is — (Correct- 
ing herself)  Yes,  of  course.  She  is  quite  happy. 

OXFORD.  Then,  will  you  favour  me  with  a  few 
moments  ? 

MADAME.    I  can  see  no  use  renewing  our  painful 

OXFORD.  (Interrupting  her  deprecatingly)  I  am 
in  a  grave  perplexity.  My  son  has  disappeared 

MADAME.  (Indignant)  And  you  suspect  us  of 
harbouring  him ! 

OXFORD.    No,  no ! — On  my  honour,  no ! 

MADAME.    Then ? 

OXFORD.  Ah — do  be  patient!  I  am  here  on  an 
errand  of  concifiation ! 

MADAME.  (With  a  touch  of  scorn)  Concilia- 
tion ! 

OXFORD.    Jack  is  very  dear  to  me. 

MADAME.    Marjolaine  is  very  dear  to  me! 

OXFORD.  Precisely.  1  have  been  considering — • 
Are  we  justified  in  keeping  these  two  young  people 
apart  ? 

MADAME.    You  say  that? 

OXFORD.  I  do.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  not  to 
act  my  own  father  over  again.  If  Jack  loves  your 
daughter,  he  is  to  marry  her 

MADAME.  That  is  no  longer  the  question.  My 
daughter  refuses  to  marry  your  son. 

OXFORD.    Why  ?    Because  she  does  not  love  him  ? 

(MADAME  is  silent;  she  sits.) 

OXFORD.  (Sits  beside  her,  L.)  No!  But  only 
because  you  tell  her  to.  She  simply  obeys  out  of 
habit.  Ah!  Why  punish  these  children  because  I 
behaved  like  a  fool  years  ago,  when  I  knew  no  bet- 
ter? 

MADAME.    But ! 

OXFORD.     (Earnestly)    And  why  punish  me  now 


Ii8  POMANDER  WALK. 

*o  late  ?    Is  it  not  possible  for  me  to  atone — Lucy  ? 

MADAME.     (Rising)    Lord  Otford ! 

OXFORD.  Don't  stop  me  now!  Don't  go  away! 
Ah!  We  are  puor  creatures,  at  best!  We  go 
blindly  p«ot  our  liappiness!  Let  us  hark  back, 
Lucy,  and  try  to  Ind  the  trail  we  missed ! 

MADAME.    W  ! 

OXFORD.    I. 

MADAME.    (Defiantly)    I  have  been  quite  happy. 

OXFORD.    I  know  it.    And  I  am  glad  tc  know  it. 

MADAME.  But  I  purchased  my  happiness  dearly. 
(She  turns  to  him)  You  have  never  realised  the 
suffering  you  inflicted  on  me. 

OTFORD,    I  can  imagine  it. 

MADAME,  No,  you  cannot.  Only  those  who 
have  gone  through  it,  can  imagine  it.  (Lost  in  her 
memories}  Nature  is  very  strong,  and  very  merci- 
ful. I  had  never  forgotten!  Never,  for  one 
moment!  But  li-'e  covered  the  memory.  {Pause) 
Then  Pierre  came  anc!  ofihred  me  his  companion- 
ship. I  gave  him  all  I  could.  Oh,  the  good,  true, 
generous  man! 

OXFORD.    (With  deep  feeling)    I  honour  him! 

MADAME.    And  I  honour  !:is  memory.     (Pause) 

OXFORD.  We  ure  quite  frank,  Lucy:  you  loved 
your  husband ;  I  oved  my  wife. 

MADAME.  And  there  is  no  more  to  be  said. 
(She  rises) 

OXFORD.  (He  rises}  Ah,  but  there  is! — Face 
your  own  soul,  Lucy,  ar  d  '  A\  me :  did  the  thought 
of  the  old  Vicarage  ^cen  ac  Otford  never  haunt 
you? 

M/.DAME.  Never  with  any  suggestion  of  dis- 
loyal, to  Pkire. 

OXFORJ).  Of  that  I  am  sure.  But  it  came.  I 
know.  (Quieter;  with  intensity)  Lucy,  Lucy,  it 
was  rtways  tlicre f  It  ?  er  "  -ft  you,  as  it  never  left 
me.  1:  ^as  the  fr?jrant  refuge,  into  which  we 
crept  in  our  solitary  moments.  Never  with  dis- 


POMANDER  WALK,  119 

loyalty,  on  your  side  or  mine;  but  for  consolation; 
for  rest.  Is  that  true? 

MADAME.  It  was  merely  the  echo  of  an  old 
song 

OXFORD.    But  how  sweet !    How  tender  I 

MADAME.  And  how  sad!  (She  sits;  with  an 
effort)  No,  no!  I  banished  it! 

OXFORD.  (With  strength;  leaning  over  her) 
You  could  not ! — No  one  can ! — Think  of  these  two 
children:  Marjolaine  and  Jack.  Suppose  we  part 
them  now:  suppose  they  go  their  different  ways: 
do  you  think  either  of  them  will  forget  the  flowing 
river,  the  sheltering  elm,  or  the  words  they  have 
whispered  under  it?  Never!  Lucy,  Lucy,  though 
we  go  astray  from  first  love,  though  we  misvalue 
it,  yes !  though  we  desecrate  it,  it  never  dies ! — On 
revient  ton  jours  a  ses  premiers  amours  f 

MADAME.  But  we  cannot  retrace  our  steps;  we 
cannot  undo  suffering;  we  cannot  win  back  inno- 
cence. 

OXFORD.  We  can !  We  started  from  the  garden } 
we  have  been  on  a  l^g  journey,  with  its  adven- 
tures, and  now  we  ar-  at  the  garden  gate  a^ain :  the 
flowers  we  loved  a*-e  beckoning  to  us ;  the  t  *.'ds  we 
loved  are  calling  us ! 

MADAME.    We  cannot  recall  the  sunrise 

OXFORD.    But  the  s^aset  can  be  as  beautiful! 

MADAME.    We  are  old 

OXFORD.  I  d>n  i' !  Bo  I  fee!  old?  Do  you  look 
old  ?  I  can't  vmlt  £  fivr-harreci  gate,  but  1  ca;.  open 
it,  and  gc  the  ouiei  sico  just  as  Quickly  I 

MADVME.  (Smiling)  Bu* — there  arc  other 
things 

OXFORL.  There  is,  above  all,  happiness!  If  we 
have  no  chilcL  ~  of  our  own,  Lucy,  w  shall  h^ve 
our  granr1  -chiidier  ' 

MALA::E.  N  (R;  s)  I  have  been  too  pe-- 
suasive.  Mar,ola:  -e's  1^  has  bee,:  nipped  in  the 
bud — and  Jack  has  run  awcy  f/om  her. 


120  POMANDER  WALK. 

OXFORD.  Not  he,  if  I  know  the  rascal !  You  tell 
me  Marjolaine  is  well  and  happy? 

MADAME.  Yes,  but  hysterical.  You  saw  for 
yourself. 

OXFORD.     Is  she  a  flighty  coquette? 

MADAME.    Certainly  not ! 

OXFORD.  Then  I'll  bet  you  a  new  hat — No!  a 
diamond  tiara ! — she  knows  where,  Jack  is ;  and 
there's  an  understanding  between  'em.  Lucy !  both 
couples  shall  be  married  on  the  same  day !  (She  is 
in  his  arms) 

MADAME.  (With  horror)  Jack! — we  shall  have 
to  tell  them ! 

OXFORD.     (With  dismay)    O  Lord! 

MADAME.    I  can't  face  Marjolaine. 

OXFORD.    Jack'll  roast  me  properly! 

MADAME.    How  they'll  laugh  at  us ! 

OXFORD.  Let  'em!  By  Gad,  it  shall  be  happy 
laughter ! 

(SXERNROYD  comes  out  of  No.  3  with  a  very  small 
white  milk  jug.  At  the  same  time  the  EYESORE 
and  JIM  come  back  arm  in  arm.  They  em- 
brace very  affectionately.) 

MADAME.  Sh! — (To  SXERNROYD)  Why,  Doc- 
tor, are  you  fetching  milk  so  late?  I  can  give  you 
some. 

SXERNROYD.  (With  suppressed  rage)  No, 
Ma'am  !  I  am  not  seeking  the  lacteal  fluid.  As  you 
see  me,  I,  the  Reverend  Jacob  Sternroyd,  Doctor  of 
Divinity,  and  Fellow  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries, 
am  on  my  way  to  procure — beer ! 

MADAME.  (With  a  tinge  of  disgust)  Oh? — • 
This  is  Lord  Otford. 

SXERNROYD.     (Drops  the  jug)    Good  heavens! 

OXFORD.  (Picking  up  the  pieces  and  handing 
them  back)  Allow  me — your  jug,  I  think.  By  the 


POMANDER  WALK.  121 

way,  Doctor,  can  you  tell  me  anything  about  a 
Marriage  licence? 

STERNROYD.  (In  guilty  despair)  I  said  so! — I 
knew  it  would  come  out!  (To  MADAME)  Miss 
Barbara  told  you ! 

MADAME.     (Astonished)     Yes!  but 

STERNROYD.  1  wash  ay  hands  of  it !  Two  whole 
days,  one  of  which  was  the  blessed  Sabbath,  I  have 
been  up  to  my  neck  in  cabals  and  intrigues!  I 
have  done! — My  lord,  it  was  very  kind  of  you  to 
approach  the  subject  so  considerately,  but  (He 
produces  a  document)  here  is  what  you  ask  for. 
His  Grace  was  very  reluctant,  but  the  pipe,  which  I 
now  fear  was  not  genuine,  did  it. — Hah !  My  con- 
science is  white  again.  I  will  tell  the  young  fire- 
brand! (He  calls)  Jack!  (He  goes  back  into 
No.  3)__ jack! 

OTFORD.  But  what  is  this?  ?  (He  reads  it  by 
the  light  of  the  lamp)  What  do  you  say  now, 
Lucy?— "John  Sayle,  of  Pomander  Walk,  in  the 
Parish  of  Chiswick,  bachelor,  and  Marjolaine 
Lachesnais,  also  of  Pomander  Walk,  spinster 

!»» 

MADAME.    Under  our  very  noses ! 

OXFORD.  Old  Dryasdust  has  gone  to  tell  Jack. 
Let's  see  what  desperate  thing  they'll  do  next 
Come ! 

(They  go  into  the  summer-house.  The  door  of  No. 
3  is  flung  open,  and  JA  ,K  and  STERNROYD  a/>- 
pear  struggling  in  the  passage.) 

STERNROYD.    But,  my  young  friend ! 

(JiM  meanders  deviously  from  R.  u.  E.  into  No.  I. 
THE  EYES: RE  r  sumes  his  fishing.) 

JACK.    (Furious)    Let  me  pass  I    Five  years  I've 


122  POMANDER  WALK. 

been  a  sailor,  but  I  can't  think  of  the  words  I  want  i 
(He  dashes  down  the  steps) 

STERNROYD.  Dear,  dear!  Tut,  tut!  (He  re- 
tires, shuts  the  door,  and  comes  into  the  sitting 
room  on  the  ground  floor,  where  he  lights  a  shadrit 
lamp,  and  brews  himself  a  jorum  of  punch) 

JACK.  The  old  fool ! — O  my  stars !  the  silly  old 
fool!  (He  knocks  furiously  at  No.  5.  NANETTE 
appears)  Tell  Miss  Marjory,  that — 

NANETTE.     (Impassive)    Plait-il? 

JACK.     O  hang! — Er — Deet  ah  Madermerzell — 

MARJOLAINE.  (Appearing,  with  a  cry)  Jack-! — 
Oh!  what  is  it? 

JACK.  Come  out!  Come  out!  (He  brings  her 
down  to  the  front) 

NANETTE.  (Alarmed)  Ah,  mais! — Ou  est-donc 
Madame? — (She  retires,  leaving  the  door  open) 

(JACK  and  MARJOLAINE  come  c.) 

JACK.  (Breathlessly)  Sternroyd! — He  had  the 
licence! — Had  it — we  were  to  be  married  to-mor- 
row j — an(l  he's  gone  and  given  it — to  whom  d'you 
think? — To  my  father! 

MARJOLAINE.    Oh !    Then  all  is  over ! 

JACK.  No!  All's  to  begin  again!  Take  me  to 
your  mother.  Then  I'll  take  you  to  my  father. 

(OTFORD   and    MADAME    have    come    out    of   the 
gasebo.) 

OTFORD.  That's  what  you  should  have  done  at 
first,  sir! 

JACK.    Father ! 

MARJOLAINE.  Maman!  (She  throws  herself 
into  her  mother's  arms) 

JACK.  (Hotly)  It's  no  use,  sir!  You  can  cut 
me  off  with  a  shilling,  but  I  mean  to  marry  Mar- 
jory. (Fumes) 


POMANDER  WALK.  123 

MARJOLAINE.      Maman! — he    came    back — and 
I'm  going  to  marry  him ! 
OXFORD.    Madame — what  do  you  say? 
MADAME.    I  say,  God  bless  them. 
MARJOLAINE.     (Amased)    Maman! 
OXFORD.    And  I  say,  ditto! 
JACK.     (Overjoyed)     Marjory! 

(MARJOLAINE  rushes  to  his  arms.    They  meet  be* 
tween  MADAME  and  OTFORD.) 

OXFORD.  (Drily)  H'm.  I  believe  this  is  a 
public  thoroughfare. 

JACK.  (Confuted)  O,  sir! — Please  give  me 
back  that  document. 

OXFORD.  Why,  no,  Jack,  /  want  that.  (He  and 
MADAME  look  at  each  other  guiltily) 

JACK.     (Protesting)     But,  sir! 

OXFORD.  (Shyly)  Um — it  may  come  in  useful 
— er — I,  too,  am  John  Sayle — and — urn — I,  too, 
am  going  to  get  married. 

JACK.  (Gravely)  Marjory,  my  father's  trying 
to  be  funny. 

MARJOLAINE.  (Watching  her  mother,  who  is 
in  pretty  confusion)  Maman! — I  believe! — I  be- 
lieve ! 

(Enter  LAMPLIGHXER  with  extinguisher  on  a  pole.) 

OXFORD.  (Coming  between  MARJOLAINE  and 
JACK)  Believe,  my  child,  believe.  (Kisses  MAR- 
JOLAINE on  forehead)  Here's  the  document,  Jack ; 
and — ah — there  is  a  pleasant  seat  under  the  elm 
(MARJOLAINE  and  JACK  go  to  tree  and  sit  c.)  and 
— agreeable  retirement  in  the — ah — gazebo.  (He 
and  MADAME  go  into  the  arbour) 

JACK.  (Leading  MARJOLAINE  to  the  elm,  where 
they  sit)  Marjory — how  wonderful! 


124  POMANDER  WALK. 

(SiR  PETER  and  JIM  are  seen  hauling  a  small  brass 
canon  out  of  No.  i,  followed  by  MRS.  POSKETT. 
THE  LAMPLIGHTER  puts  out  the  upper  lamp. 
BARBARA  and  BASIL  appear  in  the  garden  of 
No.  4.  BASIL  has  his  fiddle,  and  plays  the 
KREUTZER  SONATA  (slow  movement)  very 
softly.) 

SIR  PETER.    Haul  her  out ! 

(JiM  brings  gun  out  of  garden  of  No.  I.) 

MRS.  POSKETT.    Oh,  Peter!    I'm  frightened! 
JIM.      (Hoarsely)     It's  all  right,  mum!     I've 
emptied  her. 

(They  bring  the  gun  nearly  to  the  footlights.    Tnfe 
LAMPLIGHTER  puts  out  the  lower  lamp.) 

JACK.     (To  him)    What  are  you  doing? 

LAMPLIGHTER.  (Pointing  with  his  thumb  over 
his  shoulder)  Moon!  (Be  goes  up  and  off.  SIR 
PETER  ts  just  applying  a  piece  of  burning  tow  to  the 
gun,  when  BROOKE-HOSKYN  hurriedly  throws  open 
his  upstair  window  and  shouts  in  a  horrible 
whisper) 

BROOKE.  Sir  Peter! — Sir  Peter! — For  heaven's 
sake,  don't  fire  that  gun ! 

SIR  PETER.    Why  the  devil  not,  sir? 

BROOKE,  Sh! — (More  hoarsely  still  and  with 
tremendous  emphasis)  It's  a  boy ! 

SIR  PETER.    Gobblessmysoul !    I'll  be  godfather ! 

(RuTH  appears  at  her  upstair  window,  leans  out, 
plucks  jasmine,  and  throws  the  blossoms  on 
BARBARA  and  BASIL.  NANETTE  sta.ids  in  the 
doorway  of  No.  5.  A  glorious  full  moon  leaps 
up  at  the  back,  fooding  the  whole  stage  with 
e  warm  yellow  light.  SIR  PETER  and  MRS. 


POMANDER  WALK.  123 

POSKETT  try  to  go  into  the  gazebo,  but  are  con- 
fronted by  MADAME  and  OXFORD;  they  turn  to 
the  elm,  which  is  occupied  by  JACK  and  MAR- 
JOLAINE,  so  they  have  to  be  content  to  remain 
standing  R.  c.  THE  EYESORE  catches  a  fish. 
STERNROYD  in  his  room,  with  a  glass  of  punch 
in  one  hand,  and  a  miniature  in  the  other, 
solemnly  drinks,  saying:) 

STERNROYD.    Araminta ! 
OXFORD.     (In  the  arbour)     Lucy! 
BARBARA  and  BASIL.     (Together)     My  own! 
MARJOLAINE.     (With  a  happy  sigh)    O  Jack! 
RUXH.     (In  her  window)     Ah,  well! — I'm  sure 
we  all  hope  they'll  live  happy  ever  after ! 

SLOW  CURTAIN. 
{On  no  account  alter  the  lighting  for  the  tableau.) 


HOTEL  UNIVERSE 

Play  without  intermission  by  Philip  Barry.  Produced 
originally  by  the  Theatre  Guild  at  the  Martin  Beck  The- 
atre, New  York.  5  males,  4  females,  i  exterior  scene.  Mod- 
ern costumes. 

One  of  the  most  striking  and  original  plays  ever  written  by  an 
American,  and  on  the  occasion  of  its  production  in  New  York  it 
aroused  heated  controversy.  It  is  the  most  ambitious  and  brilliant  play 
Mr.  Barry  has  ever  attempted,  and  is  concerned  with  the  baffling 
problems  which  every  adult  human  being  is  at  some  time  forced  to 
face.  The  characters  seem  hardly  to  exist  at  all  in  relation  to  other 
people,  which  is  surely  the  reason  why  Mr.  Barry  discovered  (some- 
what as  Chekov  discovered)  that  to  invent  a  plot  for  them  would  be 
to  deprive  them  of  the  kind  of  reality  he  was  after.  These  people  are 
essentially  introspective,  centripetal,  literally  self-seeking.  And  what 
are  they  after?  Just  an  answer  to  the  question  that  every  thinking 
human  being  must  ask  himself — and  vainly:  What  is  life?  What  if 
death?  Where  are  we  going,  and  why?  What  is  the  meaning  of  past, 
present  and  future?  Published  only  in  bound  form. 

"A  glittering  play  of  unreality  and  magic  to  quicken  the  pulses  and 
stir  the  minds  .  .  ."  Richard  Lockridge,  N.  Y.  Sun. 

(Royalty  on  application.)  PRICE  $2,00  per  copy  (in  cloth). 


THE  FARMER'S  WIFE 

Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Eden  Phillpotts.  Produced  origi- 
nally by  Charles  Coburn  in  New  York  City.  9  males,  13 
females.  2  interiors.  Modern  costumes. 

This  delightful  comedy  of  English  people  was  one  of  the  long  run 
successes  in  London  before  coming  to  New  York.  The  story  is  concerned 
with  Samuel  Sweetland,  a  Devonshire  farmer  and  a  widower,  who  de- 
cides to  marry  again.  Aided  and  abetted  by  his  housekeeper,  Araminta, 
he  makes  out  a  list  of  the  various  eligible  women  in  the  county  and  pro- 
poses to  them  in  turn.  But  they  all  refuse  him,  and  in  the  end  he  finds 
at  home,  in  Araminta,  the  one  woman. 

(Royalty  on  application.)    PRICE  75  CENTS. 


BERKELEY  SQUARE 

Play  in  3  acts.  By  John  L.  Balderston.  Produced  origi- 
nally by  Gilbert  Miller  and  Leslie  Howard  at  the  Lyceum 
Theatre,  New  York.  7  males,  8  females,  i  interior.  Modern 
and  Eighteenth  century  costumes.  Plays  a  full  evening. 

Peter  Standish,  a  young  American  architect,  has  inherited,  so  it 
seems,  an  old  English  house  in  which  one  of  his  ancestors  had  played 
an  important  role.  Taking  up  his  residence  there,  he  discovers  that  he 
can  walk  back  and  forth  through  time,  that  he  can  step  into  the  shoes 
of  his  ancestor  and  live  the  life  that  man  lived  in  the  Eighteenth  cen- 
tury. He  accepts  the  challenge  of  the  adventure  and  finds  himself  en- 
tering the  old  drawing-room  dressed  in  the  costume  of  the  time  but 
still  essentially  himself,  and  he  plays  the  game  as  well  as  he  can.  Much 
charms,  but  much  also  shocks  him.  His  knowledge  cf  the  future  some- 
times trips  him  up,  but  the  platitudes  of  the  Nineteenth  and  the 
Twentieth  centuries  are  brilliant  epigrams  to  those  about  him.  But 
despite  his  success  he  is  not  really  at  home. 

"Berkeley  Square"  is  the  finest  play  of  the  season — a  play  that  casts 
a  spell."  J.  Brooks  Atkinson,  New  York  Times. 

"Unusual  in  flavor  and  right  in  entertainment — deserves  the  atten- 
tion of  every  playgoer  who  wants  to  buy  an  evening  of  complete  be- 
guilement."  John  Anderson,  N.  Y.  Evening  Journal. 

(Royalty  will  be  quoted  on  application  for  cities  and  towns  where 
it  may  be  presented  by  amateurs.)  PRICE  75  CENTS. 

HOLIDAY 

Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Philip  Barry.  Produced  originally 
by  Arthur  Hopkins  at  the  Plymouth  Theatre,  New  York. 
7  males,  5  females.  2  interiors.  Modern  costumes.  Plays  a 
full  evening. 

Holiday,  with  Hope  Williams,  was  one  of  the  outstanding  successes 
of  the  New  York  theatre,  and  later  done  in  motion  pictures  with 
Ann  Harding.  It  is  the  story  of  a  young  man  who  is  engaged  to  a 
girl  of  great  wealth  and  social  standing.  But  he  refuses  to  "make  good" 
with  her  father,  preferring  to  enjoy  life  as  a  holiday  and  an  independ- 
ent venture  in  happiness.  Because  of  this  the  two  separate,  but  at  the 
end  the  girl's  sister  realizing  that  the  young  man  is  right  and  her  fam- 
ily wrong,  confesses  that  she  is  in  love  with  him  and  agrees  to  go  away 
and  marry  him.  A  delightful  and  brilliant  comedy. 

"One  could  ask  for  nothing  better  (except  that  it  is  dangerous  to 
laugh  so  hard)  than  a  stageful  of  Philip  Barry  characters  indulging  in 
his  special  brand  of  happy-go-lucky  nonsense." 

Robert  Littell;  N.  Y.  Post. 

"It  is  continuously  gay  and  amusing,  blissfully  mad,  and  stunningly 
sane,  all  at  the  same  time.  .  .  ."  John  Anderson,  N.  Y.  Journal. 

(Royalty,  fifty  dollars.)  PRICE  $2.00  per  copy  (in  cloth). 


REBOUND 

Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Donald  Ogden  Stewart.  Produced 
originally  by  Arthur  Hopkins  at  the  Plymouth  Theatre, 
New  York.  7  males,  5  females.  Modern  costumes. 

Sara  Jaffrey  is  twenty-eight,  pretty,  charming  but  unmarried — when 
we  first  meet  her  in  the  home  of  her  sister,  Mrs.  Crawford.  Bill  Trues- 
dale  is  much  in  love  with  Evie  Lawrence,  but  she  throws  him  over  for 
the  rich  Lyman  Patterson.  Sara  and  Bill  immediately  become  engaged 
and  are  married  shortly  after. 

We  next  find  them  on  their  honeymoon  in  Paris,  where  Bill  is  be- 
ginning to  show  early  symptoms  of  being  a  neglectful  husband — even 
failing  to  show  up  to  meet  Sara's  father.  It  appears  that  Evie  and 
Lyman  have  turned  up  in  Paris  on  their  wedding  tour  and  Bill  has 
been  spending  the  truant  time  with  his  old  love.  This  devotion  to  Evie 
grows  into  alarming  proportions  despite  Sara's  pleading  with  Bill  until 
she  realizes  love  is  not  a  thing  to  be  begged  for  but  a  thing  to  com- 
mand. She  switches  her  methods  and  Bill  rebounds  back  to  her  arms 
with  every  indication  of  being  a  devoted  husband. 

"The  best  light  comedy  written  by  anybody  hereabouts  in  ten  or 
twenty  years."  Heywood  Broun,  N.  Y.  Telegram. 

(Royalty,  fifty  dollars.)  PRICE  7$  CENTS. 


THE  ROYAL  FAMILY 

Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  George  S.  Kaufman  and  Edna 
Ferber.  Produced  originally  by  Jed  Harris  at  the  Selwyn 
Theatre,  New  York,  n  males,  6  females,  i  interior. 
Modern  costumes. 

A  tremendously  interesting  and  fascinating  story  of  a  great  family 
of  the  American  stage.  The  Cavendishes,  with  which  "The  Royal 
Family"  concerns  itself,  comprises  three  generations.  First,  there  is 
Fanny  Cavendish,  wife  of  the  deceased  Aubrey  Cavendish,  "the  first 
actor  of  his  day,"  who  at  seventy  is  planning  her  tour  for  the  coming 
season.  There  is  her  brother,  Herbert  Dean,  a  pompous  player  now  in 
his  decline;  Julie,  her  daughter,  is  at  the  crest  of  her  career  as  a 
Broadway  star,  Tony,  her  son,  having  forsaken  the  stage  for  Holly- 
wood, rushes  home  only  to  flee  to  Europe  to  escape  the  attention  of  a 
Polish  picture  actress.  Soon  he  is  back  again  in  New  York  seeking 
refuge  from  a  lovesick  Balkan  princess.  A  granddaughter,  Gwen,  just 
building  into  important  ingenue  roles,  jolts  the  family  by  marrying  a 
non-professional  and  forsaking  the  stage,  but  only  temporarily. 
Through  it  all,  Fanny  Cavendish  rules  the  household  with  her  courage 
and  a  sharp  tongue.  Though  her  children  are  idols  to  the  public,  they 
are  defenseless  under  the  withering  fire  of  the  old  lady's  sarcasm. 

(Royalty  on  application.)  PRICE  75  CENTS. 


FRENCH'S 

Standard  Library  Edition 


Includes 


Philip  Barry 

Sidney  Howard 

George  Kaufman 

Harley  Granville-Barker 

The  Capeks 

Phil  Dunning 

George  Abbott 

Dorothy  Parker 

Ferenc  Molnar 

Hatcher  Hughes 

A  very  Hop  wood 

Ring  Lardner 

Tom  Gushing 

Elmer  Rice 

Maxwell  Ander50O 

The  Quinteros 

Lynn  Riggs 

Susan  Glaspetl 

Rose  Pranken 

John  van  Dniten 

Benn  W.  Levy 

Martha  Stanley 

John  Golden 

Don  Marquis 

Beulah  Marie  Dlz 

Zona  Gale 

Alfred  Kreymborg 

P.  G.  Wodehouse 

Noel  Coward 

Ian  Hay 

J.  B.  Priestly 

Mary  Roberts  RindUUt 

Ashley  Dukes 

George  M.  Cohan 

Augustus  Thomas. 

Wlnchell  Smith 

William  Gillette 

Frank  Craven 

Owen  Davis 

Austin  Strong 

A.  A.  Milne 

Harriet  Ford 

Paul  Green 

James  Montgomery 

Edward  Childs  Carpeatcr 

Arthur  Richman 

George  Middleton 

Channing  Pollock 

George  Kaufman 

Martin  Flavin 

Victor  Mapes 

Kate  Douglas  Wlggia 

Rol  Cooper  Megrue 

Jean  Webster 

George  Broadhurst 

Madeline  Lucette  Ry  ley 


Plays  by 

Fred  Ballard 

Percy  MacKaye 

Willard  Mack 

Jerome  K.  Jerome 

Mark  Swan 

Rachel  Crothcrs 

W.  W.  Jacobs 

Ernest  Denny 

Kenyon  Nicholson 

Edgar  Selwyn 

Laurence  Housman 

Israel  Zangwill 

Walter  Hackett 

A.  E.  Thomas 

Edna  Ferber 

Justin  Huntley  McCarthy 

Frederick  Lonsdale 

Rex  Beach 

Paul  Armstrong 

George  Kelly 

Booth  Tarkington 

George  Ade 

J.  C.  and  Elliott  Nugent 

Barry  Conners 

Edith  Ellis 

Harold  Brighouse 

Harvey  J.  O'Higgina 

Clare  Kummer 

James  Forbes 

William  C.  DeMille 

Louis  N.  Parker 

Lewis  Beach 

Guy  Bolton 

Edward  E.  Rose 

Marc  Connelly 

Lynn  Starling 

Josephine  Preston  Peabody 

Catherine  Chisholm  Cushing 

Clyde  Fitch 

Earl  Derr  Biggers 

Thomas  Broadhurst 

Charles  Klein 

Bayard  Veiller 

C.  Haddon  Chambers 

Richard  Harding  Davis 

Robert  Housum 

Salisbury  Field 

Leo  Dietrlchtstein 

Eden  Phillpotts 

Sir  Arthur  Conan  Doyle 

Brandon  Tynan 

Clayton  Hamilton 

Edward  Sheldon 

Edward  Paulton 

Adelaide  Matthews 

William  Cary  Duncan 


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